


into your loving arms (home is where the heart is)

by littleheavens



Category: Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Actor!jihoon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, First Love, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Past!NielWink, Slow Burn, Some Angst I Guess!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-24 02:02:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17092025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleheavens/pseuds/littleheavens
Summary: Park Jihoon has always believed first loves aren't meant to work out. He might have to change his mind when he crashes, burns, and meets Park Woojin again along the way.





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> dearest recipient, i know i stepped away from your prompt a little (a lot), but i hope you will enjoy this regardless. thank you so much for blessing me with such a nice and creative idea ♡
> 
> this one is for rowan, who i love and cherish and am thankful for every day.

 

The world ends with two brown eyes, a playful smirk, and a simple _Hello_.

 

Okay, so, maybe that does sound a little dramatic. But the connection between heart and mind sometimes tends to malfunction a little. After all, fate has a funny way of bringing people together, doesn’t it?

 

There are moments in life that can change it forever.

 

A few examples:

 

When Park Jihoon was 10 years old, his father took him to his hometown’s local theatre. He doesn’t remember the name of the play well — it was a foreign one, he is sure — but he remembers watching it with his mouth agape and in stunned silence. He remembers clutching onto his father’s hand, whispering, _“Dad, can I do that too?”_ and his father laughing, patting his head, responding with an _“Of course. You can be anything you want.”_

 

Jihoon has just nodded in understanding, continuing to watch the actors in some sort of daze. When he went home that night, he’d known what he’d wanted to do for the rest of his life.

 

(And he did.)

 

When he was 12 years old, one of his friends got pushed into the lockers in the school’s corridor after playing around on the field. He saw it when he passed by, trying to go and get his books for his next class. The encounter had him seething, small hands balling themselves up into a fist. He still remembers how he’d yelled at the guy who did it — broader, taller, older than him. He still remembers trying to lash out to the bully, but his friends holding him back. “Don’t do this, Jihoonie.”

 

“But they wanted to _hurt_ you, Donghan!” he’d shrieked.

 

In the end, they’d just ended up going to the principal’s office, Jihoon telling her what happened. Voice small, posture smaller. And after that, Jihoon had devoted himself as the unofficial protector of his friends. He’d vowed to himself that he’d always take care of his loved ones, that he’d be there for them.

 

(But he couldn’t.)

 

And when he was 14, he’d moved from Masan to a smaller district in Busan and became friends with Park Woojin. Woojin, who made him realise that maybe, just maybe, every mainstream romance movie plot between a boy and a girl didn’t apply to him anymore. It had been a slow process; from seat mates in class to being on the same dance team together. From strangers to best friends to Jihoon slowly coming to the epiphany that what he felt for Woojin wasn’t friendship.

 

He’d like to think Woojin had felt the same.

 

But first loves aren’t meant to work out. They aren’t meant to result in happy endings.

 

(So it didn’t.)

 

Therefore, it wasn’t a surprise that at 17, Jihoon had experienced his first heartbreak, his first conflict, when he’d gotten scouted during one of their school plays and moved up to Seoul, away from everything he has ever known.

 

They had kept in contact, or tried to, but eventually, everything fades. Out of sight, out of mind, and before he knows it Park Woojin had become — despite playing a pivotal role, a catalyst, in Jihoon’s life and road to self-discovery — just a distant memory.

 

Time passes. Years pass, as they always do. Winter becomes Summer and Summer becomes Winter again. People change, Jihoon grows up, falls down and tries to crawl back up, tries to navigate through his new life, learns some lessons along the way.

 

And now he is 20 going 21, and the same Park Woojin walks back into his life and makes himself a home like he’s always belonged there.

 

(Maybe he did.)


	2. hide and seek

 

_i keep on asking why we're still divided_

_i'm hanging on to see if we collide_

_we don't need to know the place or time_

_as long as i am yours and you are mine_

— kodaline

 

 

It’s a Friday when it happens. It’s a Friday when Jihoon’s world feels like it has crumbled down to the very base.

 

He should have seen it coming, really. After all, it had been kind of inevitable.

 

Having to hide who he really is resulting into a strange sort of break up with the guy he was seeing-but-not-really, resulting into overworking, combined with the fact he didn’t really have much room to breathe to begin with.

 

He doesn’t remember passing out that particular day, doesn’t remember what the context was, but one moment he was getting ready to leave, waiting for Jisung to come and pick him up in his apartment, and the next he wakes up it’s on a hospital bed with a whole bunch of tubes and machines around him.

 

Outside, it seems like the first winter snow is about to arrive.

 

In the corner of the room, a familiar face is looking at him.  

 

His heart lurches.

 

Hwang Minhyun has dyed his hair a lighter shade. He looks taller and thinner than Jihoon remembers him being. It hits him how long it’s been since he’s last properly seen him outside of rushed meetings over coffee or FaceTime calls. “Hey hyung,” he croaks, and it sinks in how fragile he’s truly feeling.

 

Minhyun raises an eyebrow at him. A sign of skepticism, maybe a little bit of disappointment, but there is worry clear in his eyes.

 

He realises Minhyun being here can only mean something _bad_. No offense to him, but this is how Jihoon essentially realises that he is in deep trouble, that it might as well just be the end. For him, for his career, or for both; he’s not too sure.

 

Because he knows what Minhyun is to him, and even more so to his family: a caretaker, someone who still watches over him quietly, the only connection left between Busan and Seoul. A childhood hyung, a trustworthy senior, and the reason Jihoon's parents rest assured while their son is up in the capital making a name for himself.

 

Before he can say anything more or ask any questions, a doctor walks in. Doctor Kwon, her name tag reads. Jihoon nods politely at her when she notices him.

 

“Ah, Mr. Park, you are awake. You gave us quite a shock here. How are you feeling?”

 

Jihoon bites his lip. It’s a good question, he supposes. “Tired? I think. Um… What happened, if I may ask?”

 

The doctor gives him a weak smile as she scribbles something down on her notepad. “I see. Well, you collapsed due to severe dehydration and exhaustion. Had you been feeling sick prior to coming here? You had a fever when you were admitted.”

 

He thinks for a moment, thoughts still a little hazy. “I… had a cold, I think? I mean, and some headaches here and there. But nothing else.”

 

Doctor Kwon gives him a hum in return before she scribbles something down. “I see. Well, strangely enough, you had high fever. We suppose that is what was the final straw. To be honest, it wasn’t looking too good for you, Mr. Park.” His eyes widen, but the doctor just gives him a reassuring smile. “Nothing life threatening, don’t worry. However, I do advise you take a _loooong_ rest.”  

 

He doesn’t know why doctor Kwon puts emphasis on the _long_ when there’s highly likely no doubt that she knows exactly just _who_ he is. He’s about to retort — shrug it off with a trademark smile, promising her to take the week off — when Minhyun speaks up from his side of the room. His voice is like glass — loud, clear, and destructive when it explodes.

 

“And rest he will,” he says with a small smile, yet the worry in his eyes is still omnipresent. “He’s going back home to Busan for at least a few weeks.”

 

The world ends. But so it goes.

 

_So it goes._

 

Despite the protests, an upset call to Jisung and to his parents about “ _why the fuck did you allow this how did this happen what the HELL”_ and his fans being upset — so it goes.

 

The article on Naver reads like this: _“Rookie star actor Park Jihoon to quit the limelight for time being, as he recently suffered severe health problems. His agency, One Entertainment, confirms the news and promises he will be taken care of well and will return healthily to us soon.”_

 

The netizen comments on the articles read like this: an unhealthy mix between [+836, -11] _Get well soon, Jihoon Oppa_! and [+532, -87] _Return soon? As if! ㅋㅋㅋ_

 

He doesn’t want to say it’s heartbreaking, but he feels like it is.

 

He doesn’t want to feel like it’s the end of the world, but it feels like it is.

 

In the beginning it went fast, _too fast,_ almost. A man clad in a dark suit walking up to him after a performance of his high school’s theatre club and giving him his card. A remark about promises, about how Jihoon has what it takes. Then, an audition, a callback, a contract. Falling, getting up, growing.

 

But here he is, not even four years later, in the back of none other than Hwang Minhyun’s car watching the landscape pass by, watching as he's being driven him away from everything he’s worked for ever since then.

 

The talent scout, back then, had promised him they’d get him to the top. And get him to the top they did. _Up-and-rising_ , is what the press calls it. _A monster rookie._ Park Jihoon, one of the nation’s sweethearts, a star in the making. But now… _now_ he feels like it’s all being stripped away from him. All of it, gone in the snap of a finger and no idea if he would ever get it back.

 

Minhyun gives him a concerned smile as their eyes meet through the rearview mirror. Jihoon barely finds it in him to curl the corner of his lips upwards in response.  

 

“Jihoon,” Minhyun starts, lowering the radio volume.

 

A glare. “No.”

 

A laugh. “I haven’t even said anything, though?”

 

He is not mad at him. A little upset, sure. But he isn’t mad; he can’t be. Not when Minhyun is just doing what he’s been told to do. Not when his mother had been near tears after he’d called her, telling him she’d missed him, that she couldn't stand it anymore. Not when his father had told him, straight up, that Jihoon was losing his values because of his tough work ethic.

 

Doesn’t mean he can’t be stubborn about it, though.

 

When Jihoon doesn’t respond, Minhyun continues. “You know they’re just doing this because they miss you, right? That they just want you to unwind a bit. That they want you to realise that—”

 

 _“— family and friends are the most important thing and I need to come back to reality?”_ Jihoon finishes for him.

 

Minhyun snaps his mouth shut for a moment, agitated at being cut off. “Not worded in that way. But yeah.”

 

“I know, I _know,_ but it sucks.”

 

They’re at a red light, and Minhyun turns momentarily so he can properly face the younger. “This isn't the end if you don’t want it to be. But you also know they were right, you need rest.”

 

Well, he guesses he can’t argue with that. And even if he could, it wouldn’t be any use.

 

He drifts into a nap to the sound of a familiar song playing on the radio, Minhyun’s rhythmic tapping on the steering wheel, and the sound of cars idly passing by.

 

The Parks have never been quite an _emotional_ family, but when he gets out of the car his mother looks close to tears again and his father’s lips are pressed into a thin, firm line.

 

“I’m sorry,” he says before his parents wrap him up into a hug. He smiles into it, then goes to give Minhyun one as well. “And thank you, hyung. Don’t ditch me, now that you’ve dropped me off here, yeah?

 

Minhyun gives him a warm smile. “Of course not.”

 

* * *

 

 

The first week back home is spent sleeping and gaming. Basically what Jihoon would do if he had a day off in Seoul, too. This didn’t happen often though, but regardless, the point still stands.

 

It’s… surprisingly not that bad, being home. It’s strange to call it _home_ , though. It hasn’t been for years, at least not in the sense it used to be anymore. He hasn’t had many opportunities to go back here, not even during breaks or odd lulls in his schedules. When he sees his parents, it’s usually because they come up to Seoul, or when Jihoon has schedules around the Busan area.

 

It’s surprising how fast places lose their value, sometimes.

 

And yet, out of all places, he still thinks he might have been happiest here.

 

It’s the cherry blossom trees in the early spring days, the twinkling lights during holiday season, the sound of the sea all year around. It’s fresh air he didn’t know he missed breathing.

 

Except, he can’t see any of it. Not really.

 

So, when after another week of lying around and just seeing his family and bothering the few friends he has back in Seoul through KakaoTalk, his entire body starts itching for a walk, for being _outside_. Fresh air, a clear head.

 

And he knows he _can’t_. They’ve talked about this, about going outside and roaming around. It’s been very clear: he can’t. Covering up would be a hassle — Jihoon is too recognisable, too popular, and the news of his hiatus is still too fresh.

 

They live in one of the smaller, more quiet districts of Busan, though, so Jihoon had argued it wouldn’t be a big issue, that it wouldn't matter. He almost blurts out that the public has long since forgotten about him, anyway, but he doesn’t — speaking things out loud is speaking them into existence, right?  

 

“It might be dangerous for your recovery,” his mom had said, putting down the pot of stew on the table, and that had been it.

 

He understands it, he really does. But this part of town is quite small and quiet, and as the days go by he realises how much he missed it here. He doesn’t want to spend however long it is inside only to get put back on the KTX straight to Seoul Station, back to how things used to be. How is that any better? How is that helping at all?

 

But he tries. Games a little more, sleeps until his body physically can’t anymore, spends a little too long facetiming Seongwoo, bothers Minhyun to get him to talk some sense into his parents. He lasts three more days like that, but then it’s a Monday, the beginning of a new week, and the house is vacant until at least early evening.

 

The early Winter sun is shining, the birds are chirping, the weather is the perfect kind of warm and cold at the same time. Just how he likes it.

 

It’s a risk, he knows. He _knows_ , but he takes out his mask and a hat from somewhere at the bottom of a suitcase he never properly unpacked, puts it on, and sneaks out.

 

Wind brushes his cheeks, and Jihoon swallows up the fresh Busan air like it’s life support. He hasn’t had this in a while, the freedom. Since it’s the middle of a work day, the streets are nearly vacant except for the vendors from the local stalls, who pay him no mind.

 

He doesn’t know how long he walks for, but he finds himself walking back to all the spots from his childhood.

 

It’s his old high school he ends up at. The playground at the park next to it, to be more precise. He sits back on the swing, like he’d done a thousand times before, and thinks of those days. He wonders how the rest of them are doing, and that’s when Park Woojin crosses his mind again. _Woojin_ , who he’s tried so hard not to think about even since he’s gotten here.

 

Woojin, who was everything a first love should be. Woojin, who was his first heartbreak also. Woojin, who will always be the _what-if_ and _has-been._

 

He pushes the thoughts away, doesn’t want his mind to wander into possibilities of him still being around. Woojin is probably somewhere else in the world, doing his own thing, having long since forgotten about Jihoon.

 

Keeping in touch had been hard for them. They’d known it would fade — even though Jihoon manages to be in contact with some of his old friends sporadically even now. But it became having to switch phone numbers every so often, having to deactivate his personal accounts, and whatnot. It became harder, and harder.

 

Vaguely, like an afterthought, he thinks maybe he’d let it fade with Woojin on purpose. He thinks maybe, it had hurt too much.

 

Wherever Woojin is, Jihoon just hopes he is happy.

 

It’s quite funny, he thinks, how people often try to make him feel like he’s accomplished the most, yet he feels like _he_ is the one at a standstill.  

 

Maybe it’s his mind messing with him, the whiplash of going from a city life in the spotlight to a small house in solitude. He wonders if, deep down, he’s always been this lonely even though he was constantly surrounded by people.

 

He sighs, dragging a hand down his face. He should really talk to Jisung or something soon.

 

He continues walking, his feet dragging him further away from home. He should probably head back, soon. Darkness comes early around this time of the year. And as much as he’d like to push the _‘I am grown up and have lived alone for the past three years or so’_ argument, he knows his parents wouldn’t be too happy finding out he snuck out like a damn rebellious teenager.

 

He turns another corner and nearly topples over when he thinks he spots a similar figure entering a building a little bit down the street. He stills in his tracks, but the person has already gone inside, disappearing from Jihoon’s sight. He must really be imagining things now. Perhaps fresh air really isn’t that good for his smog-filled mind.

 

When he gets home with a few minutes to spare before his mom is supposed to arrive, he briefly considers texting Minhyun, asking just _who_ is still around exactly, but decides against it. Instead, he rolls over, starts up his computer, and sends Daniel a battle invite.

 

* * *

 

 

As it turns out, he doesn’t have to look for answers. The answers come to find him instead.

 

The answer comes in the form of Hwang Minhyun showing up on his doorstep, five days later — a Friday — after Jihoon has snuck out every day to aimlessly walk around and return before dusk.

 

“Can I borrow Jihoon for the night? I promise he’ll be safe with me,” is what he says before giving his mom his signature, sweet smile. Of course, she is skeptical, but relents anyway.

 

He urges Jihoon to change out of his sweats into something presentable before pushing him into the passenger’s seat of his car. “Hwang Minhyun, _what_ are we doing? Are you kidnapping me?”

 

Minhyun starts the engine and backs out of the small driveway. “Well, technically I am not. It’s not kidnapping if it’s consensual.”

 

Jihoon has known Minhyun for a long time, so it only takes a few seconds before he realises he hasn’t answered his first question.

 

“Okay. So where are we going again, exactly?”

 

Minhyun turns on the radio, says nothing.

 

“You really think I won’t open this car door and jump out.”

 

The older laughs at that. “Would make a good headline. _Park Jihoon back in hospital because he’s a major idiot who jumps out of moving vehicles,_ how perfect.”

 

Jihoon huffs. “You really should never become a journalist. That is a _bad_ headline. Stop stalling and just tell me, please.”

 

It takes him another ten seconds, and Jihoon vaguely takes note of Minhyun driving through the neighbourhood near the university. It should have clicked just then, but Minhyun beats him to his realisation when he says, “Jinyoungie’s dorm.”

 

“ _Jinyoung?”_

 

“He saw you walk around the other day, you know. He was on the bus and texted me about it.” Minhyun sighs. “He was kind of sad you didn’t tell him you were here, considering he’s one of the few people here who you’ve actively kept in touch with. And timing is in your favour, apparently, because we were having a little get-together before the holiday season started anyway.”

 

Jihoon gulps. “Who exactly is _we_?”

 

Minhyun smiles. “You know. A few of us, nothing big or special.”

 

The world could have ended right there, and Jihoon wouldn’t have known. Not with the sudden anxiety that hits him in the chest, choking him. “Hyung…”

 

The older glances over, seeing Jihoon’s expression. “Don’t worry, okay. I asked Jinyoung. He half-offered, actually.”

 

“I don’t want to, I don’t know, intrude. Or overstep. Or like, whatever.”

 

Minhyun just smiles. “It’ll be fine. I wouldn’t have done this otherwise, you know that, right? Besides, I am here.”

 

He swallows, and nods. It helps, a little, to know Minhyun will at least be there. He’s still a little antsy, finds it hard to shake it off, and it has Minhyun glancing over a few times.

 

“Okay, I can take care of myself, you know,” Jihoon notes dryly after the fifth time.

 

“I know. But now I feel a little guilty for scaring you like that. I can still turn around, you know?”

 

Every nerve in his body is telling him _yes, please go back home_ , but his stubbornness is vehemently refusing. Damn it. “It’s whatever.”

 

Minhyun nods, turns the corner. “It’ll be fine.”

 

And despite the initial anxiety, it is _fine_. There’s not a lot of people, which puts him at ease. Some of them he doesn’t know, but he’s seen some familiar faces.

 

It kind of kills him like this — Jihoon, who always tried to stand high and proud, ducking his head down. Luckily, Minhyun sticks by his side at first, letting himself in and immediately going to find Jinyoung.

 

Jihoon was more than a little scared, to be completely honest. Fear creeping up on him about how it’s been _years_ since he’s been here, about how his life had completely changed and he’d slowly lost touch with his old friends here, about how it was some weird mix between _that’s life_ and _regret_ whenever he thinks of it.

 

He hasn’t seen some of these people in years. _Years_ . Hasn’t even met some of them. He doesn’t even know if people would want to see him, if they would still even know him — at least not as _just_ Jihoon.

 

It was the thoughts of people looking at him weirdly, about him not being welcome.

 

Jinyoung’s eyes light up and he flings his arms around Jihoon as soon as they’re in reach when he sees him trail into the kitchen behind Minhyun, smiling a bit sheepishly.

 

“How’ve you been, little one?” Jinyoung grins, scrunching his nose. He knows Jihoon hates the doting, especially coming from a junior, but here he is. “Why didn’t you text me to tell you that you came back?”

 

 _Well, a lot of reasons,_ he thinks to himself, but Minhyun jumps in with a remark about the state of Jinyoung’s small kitchenette and the topic is forgotten.

 

He knows Jinyoung goes to college here still, even though his parents relocated to another part of the country. He’d been one of Jihoon’s first friends in Busan — tiny, a little shy, and suffering the same fate as him. They’d both transferred around the same time, so adjusting was easier with both of them sharing the hardships together.

 

“I’m going up to Seoul for next semester, though. The program there is _way_ better, no offense. And maybe we can actually hang out, then,” he says, leaning back on the counter. On the table is a bottle of soda with a post-it note that says “THIS IS HYUNJIN’S. HANDS OFF, BAE JINYOUNG.” 

 

Jinyoung reads it before opening the bottle and refilling his glass.

 

It would be a lie to say it’s not a little awkward at first, because after everything he’s still one of Korea’s biggest rising actors. Jinyoung and him go way back, sure, and he’s never had trouble sharing snippets about his life in Seoul with him. But contact fades, too. And not only that, because besides Jinyoung, there’s a room full of people he’s long since had to forget about. So yeah, it’s awkward.

 

But still, it’s _nice_.

 

It’s nice when old classmates come up to him and ask him how he’s been, how he’s _really_ been.

 

It’s nice when Jo Yuri yells at him about not keeping in touch and then challenges him to take a shot with him, before Choi Yena waltzes over and drags her away with a wink.

 

It’s nice when he spots Joo Haknyeon in a corner of the room, walking over to him with a smile and, albeit a little awkwardly, asking him about his life in Seoul and how he’s adapting being here for a little while.

 

It’s nice when Jinyoung decides to send a selfie of the three of them — Jihoon squeezed in the middle between Minhyun and himself — to Guanlin, who went back to his family in Taiwan for a few months after graduating high school, and getting asked if ‘ _The love of the nation still wears neon shoelaces like he used to_ ’.

 

It’s nice, because for just a little while, he thinks he can be just _Jihoon_. The version of himself he’s long since forgotten about. The version of himself the entire world seems to have forgotten about. The version he seems to have had to leave behind when he was barely seventeen.

 

For a while, there's still an underlying fear of being exposed, of seeing his face on a random Pann post in the morning. It doesn't matter a lot to him, though, but his parents would certainly throw a fit, as would his company.  _Park Jihoon? Attending parties during his "recovery"?,_  things like that swim through his mind every so often. The feeling ebbs away after some time, luckily. 

 

He eventually realises he can let his guard down, even just a little. And maybe _this_ is what his parents meant when they took him back to Busan.

 

He doesn’t know how much later it is when he ends up being squeezed on the couch in between Minhyun and Minki, half-heartedly listening to stories being told here and there. He’s missed this, he realizes, he’s missed being here, missed being _home_.

 

And maybe he was wrong. Maybe this never stopped being home, in a way.

 

But then, beyond the growing calmth and nostalgia in his heart, the night is full of surprises still.

 

On the other side of the small living room, one of Jinyoung’s friends he can’t remember the name of is about to reach the essence of his joke when the world suddenly ends.

 

The dorm door opens, and everything stops.

 

“Oh hey, Wooj!” Jinyoung yells all of a sudden, getting up with a wide smile. “You’re late!” he continues, waving the approaching figure over excitedly. Jihoon nearly topples over at the mention of the name, and _what the hell_ , that _is_ Park Woojin turning the corner.

 

“I had _practice and classes_ , asshole,” the latter yells back, with the same stupid grin that never changed since the last time they saw each other.

 

He doesn’t know what he must look like, but he must look ridiculous, gaping at the other boy. Minhyun raises a single eyebrow at him, but he ignores it.

 

Woojin is still, well, _beautiful_. Breath-taking. Different. Jihoon doesn’t bother hiding that he’s staring since he thinks no one is looking at him to begin with.

 

The other boy greets them all excitedly, throwing _Hello’s_ and _how are you_ ’s around, scanning the crowd, but then he falters as his eyes land on Jihoon. “Hold up. Jihoon? _Park Jihoon?_ Is that you?” he says, and suddenly Jihoon is struggling to keep his balance as Woojin runs over and flings himself at him. He doesn't even recall standing up, but here he is. “Holy _shit_ , what the hell!”

 

Jihoon laughs nervously, uncomfortably aware of _at least_ four pairs of eyes on them now. It doesn’t matter, though, because Woojin squeezes him tighter and sighs contentedly. Jihoon lets him, closes his eyes for a second, brings his arms up to envelope Woojin into his arms.

 

When the other pulls away, keeping the older boy at an arm's length, his eyes sparkle. “It _is_ you,” he says, and Jihoon thinks he might sound a bit breathless. “You are so different, but so much the same as well.”

 

“ _Yeah_ ,” is all Jihoon manages to respond to that, awkward as ever. But he’s smiling, and Woojin is smiling back that one snaggletoothed smile of his, for _him,_ and suddenly they’re fourteen years old and have the whole world at their feet. “How have you been?”

 

Jihoon is reluctant to let go, but doesn’t protest when Woojin loosens his grip, still only putting a bare minimum of distance between them. It still feels like it’s too much, though. Minhyun has suddenly conveniently disappeared, it seems, so Woojin takes his empty spot on the couch. “I’ve been good,” he says. “Studying and working, mostly. Busy busy, but _good_. What about you? God, Jihoon, it’s been like… what… five years?”

 

“I’ve been good too. I mean, I guess.” He chuckles. “Resting up a bit.”

 

Woojin nods at that. “I didn’t know you would be back in Busan, though. When I heard about it, I thought you’d go back to Masan, at least, or even stay in Seoul. But here you are.” He pulls Jihoon a little closer again. “Life truly is full of surprises.”

 

Around them, the world continues turning, the party continues on. But it feels like they’re in their own little world now.

 

They haven’t really changed at all, Jihoon notices after a little bit of talking. It’s like it all _clicks_ back in place, and he has a hard time _not_ feeling the remains of the butterflies he’d felt years ago.

 

He can’t say it’s an unpleasant feeling; that would be a complete lie.

 

Jihoon learns Woojin still lives here, actually. That he is taking a semester off college for reasons he doesn’t elaborate on yet. That he’s teaching dance classes for some extra money in the city centre.

 

The whirlwind of feelings in Jihoon’s stomach settles down as they talk. Nerves and anxiety replacing themselves with nostalgia and a little bit of good-hearted melancholy.

 

“You never came to visit anymore,” Woojin pouts a bit, and Jihoon wonders if he knows what it does to him.

 

“Sorry. Just, you know, _life_ ,” Jihoon mutters, and there’s a tone that implies regret in his voice.

 

But Woojin gives him a reassuring smile, puts a hand on his knee and squeezes. “I know,” he says, with obvious sincerity, and that’s that.

 

He doesn’t know how much time passes, it might as well have been hours or days when Woojin’s phone beeps and he looks down with a frown. When Jihoon looks around him, he sees the couch is empty except for them. The living room in general has thinned out, too. Most of the people having left, probably. He doesn’t know what time it is, but it’s probably late enough.

 

“Yikes. I’ve got a class to teach in the morning, so I should probably, uh, leave. But…” His eyes seem to twinkle when he looks at Jihoon, capturing all of his attention and focus again. “I don’t know how long you’ll be staying, but since I’ll be around for a little while... if you, uh, need me? Or ever want to hang out? Or… eh… things? You know where to find me, I guess? Yeah.”

 

Jihoon nods, keeping eye contact despite his heart oddly beating in his throat. “Okay, yeah, sure.”

 

Woojin grins at him, the same little snaggletooth peeking out. Good _god._ “I mean it, Park Jihoon. Don’t be a stranger.” And then he proceeds to look at him for a long moment before pulling him into a tight hug.

 

It lasts a second too long. It’s too warm, too tight — and yet, Jihoon would like to stay here, just like this, forever.

 

The younger lets him go first, patting him by the shoulders. “See you, Park Jihoon.”

 

“See you, Park Woojin.”

 

A little dazed, Jihoon waves the other boy goodbye until he rounds the corner and disappears, door clicking shut behind him. Looking around, he pads around to search for Jinyoung or Minhyun or _anyone_ he might know, really (Which, in essence, is still mostly just Minhyun or Jinyoung). He should probably head home soon, too.

 

When he enters the small kitchen again, Minhyun is just ending a call. He smiles at Jihoon as he hangs up.

 

“Your boyfriend, hyung?” Jihoon teases, tone light. It must be the general atmosphere that makes him say it.

 

The older boy blushes, Jihoon is pretty sure. “Hah. Not… exactly. More like my ex boyfriend.”

 

There is no malice in his tone, no bitterness or hurt or anything that indicates a broken heart. Then again, Minhyun has always been good at building walls. But Jihoon isn’t thinking about that, at least not directly.

 

It’s the initial surprise that makes him ask. “Ah. Wait. I thought you and Youngmin— you and Youngmin hyung broke up?”

 

Minhyun barks out a laugh — the warm, homey kind. “You could say that. It was a long while ago, keep up. We’re still friends, though.”

 

The older doesn’t elaborate further than that and as much as Jihoon would like him to — he’s still curious as ever, but maybe that’s for another day. “You never told me.”

 

“You didn’t ask,” Minhyun shrugs, smiling. That’s valid; dating is a thing they’ve never really discussed between them. “I’m actually trying to set him up with one of my friends in Seoul, that's what he called me about, actually. Don’t tell anyone I said that.”

 

Jihoon nods at that. “Sure.”

 

“What about you, though?” Minhyun fires back, opening the fridge to take out a bottle of water as if this is his own kitchen, not Jinyoung’s tiny dorm. “Don’t think I didn’t see you out there.”

 

There’s mirth in the older’s voice, and it turns into a whole grin when Jihoon starts blushing too. “The— I— _Noooo_. It’s been a long time since I saw Woojin, it was just nice to catch up.”

 

“Funny how I didn’t mention any specific names, but you somehow gave me enough teasing material for the rest of your time here on a silver platter.”

 

Jihoon splutters, and Minhyun grins. “You should’ve seen your faces. It was priceless.”

 

“You didn’t tell me he was still… I don’t know, _here.”_

 

The older grins, eyes full of _something_. “I know him too well. And I know you too well, too. I knew it’d be a nice surprise if you saw each other like this.”

 

Jihoon sighs, causing the older to full on laugh at him for a moment — loud and boisterous and eyes crinkled and typically _Minhyun_ — before he walks over and ruffles his hair. “I’m glad you came, that you didn’t tell me to turn around. A lot of things changed, but some things really didn’t. I suppose we all drifted, soared, fell a little. It’s been so long, and I know it might have been a lot for you, which is funny considering you’re _The_ Park Jihoon.”

 

He feels his cheeks heat up, not for the first time that night. “Yeah, it was. But it was… nice.” He doesn’t mean for the hint of melancholy to creep into his voice, but Minhyun raises his eyebrows for a second and he just _knows_ it was there. “I don’t know how you manage to do it, this best of both worlds thing, Seoul and Busan. But it was nice to, you know, be here.”

 

“Well, you are always welcome here, remember that,” a voice behind them says, and Jihoon turns around to find Jinyoung leaning against the door. “Granted, you’ll probably be going back to Seoul and to your busy life in a couple of weeks, but the point still stands. And once I am in Seoul as well, you are still welcome.”

 

Jihoon nods at that, some kind of warmth blooming in his chest. “Thank you, really. And I’m sorry I haven’t told you I was back.” He doesn’t say _I was nervous, I was scared,_ but he doesn’t have to.

 

The younger nods, a look in his eyes that spells understanding. He walks over to the kitchen cabinet, pulls out a pack of cookies and puts it on the counter, taking one out. “Don’t worry too much, hyung. That’s life, isn’t it? Enjoy it while it lasts here, and think about the rest later. YOLO, and stuff.”

 

Jihoon reaches for the pack, intending to steal a cookie, but the younger swats his hand away. It’s an odd sense of familiarity, and he understands the look Jinyoung is giving him. One of _You still remember this, right? Just like old times._

 

 _“_ These aren’t even _yours,_ ” Minhyun points out, earning a snort from Jinyoung. “Stop raiding your roommate’s food.”

 

Jihoon finds himself laughing at that, too. A genuine, loud laugh — one he hasn’t heard from himself in ages. He looks between Minhyun and Jinyoung, both of them bickering playfully, and his heart clenches.

 

Time doesn’t stop for anybody, but memories are always nice to revisit.

 

They’re even nicer to remake.

 

He stays in the kitchen for a little while after Jinyoung and Minhyun leave to clean up the living room, just thinking, contemplating as he takes small bites from the snack in his hand. It had been a really long time — since he’d been here, since he’d truly felt at home somewhere.

 

He thinks of his old friends from when he was barely a teenager and a little awkward but with the world at his feet. He thinks of how much he’s changed, how much they’ve changed, and how yet some things still click.

 

He thinks of Woojin, and how the beating of his heart is trying to tell him something he should already know.

 

 

* * *

 

 

In the morning there is some clattering in the kitchen, the sun shining through the blinds of the room, and the beeping of a phone.

 

Park Jihoon wakes up in the morning with the idle winter sun shining on his face and a few text messages from Jinyoung.

 

He’d sent the younger a small _Thank you for having me over_ before going to bed last night. A few mere words with an entire galaxy of meanings; of things he can’t explain but he knows Jinyoung will understand them regardless. This is how it's always been, between them.

 

The younger had replied with some emojis and a ‘ _You’re welcome, Hoonie hyung’_. Jihoon is in the middle of typing a response when another text comes in.

 

**FROM: Jinyoungie, 8:35AM**

> oh btw

> a little birdie asked me for your number cuz they lost it some time ago

> i contemplated asking you first but then i realised you’d say yes anyway

> in case he doesn’t text u first, tho:

> [contact info]

> you can thank me later :-)

 

Jihoon doesn’t even need to double check before he _knows_ whose ID he just got sent. Something churns in his stomach. _Butterflies_? No. Must just be nerves. Post-party jitters. Being back in Busan shivers. Right?

 

_Right?_

 

Because it’s not like he’s _still_ crushing on Park Woojin. It’s been years, it _had been_ years. And even though he still felt the ghost of those feelings, too much time has passed. He's seen other people, moved on.

 

And Yet.

 

Yet, seeing the other boy had been nice. Nicer than he’d expect it to be. Nicer than he wants to admit to his heart. Often, run-ins with old friends aren’t very pleasant. They’re awkward, a little tense. Hard to keep up with, especially if it doesn’t go beyond small talk. But with Woojin, it had been easy — easier than most of the things he’s done the past few weeks.

 

No feelings involved, though. Nope.

 

So he doesn’t know why he’s nervous. He shakes it off, decides he needs to get some air and spend time with his family. He’ll think about texting Woojin later.

 

But as per usual, Park Woojin is always one step ahead.

 

Jihoon comes back into his room after eating the breakfast his mother had made for him, right as his phone beeps where he’d left it on the night stand.

 

It’s simple, really. Just a _hey!_ , followed by _it was nice seeing you again_. It’s simple, really, but it’s enough to make him smile.

 

Park Woojin.

 

He ignores the butterflies in his stomach as he writes back.

 

He ignores the beating of his heart when Woojin responds almost immediately, almost as if he’d been waiting.

 

He ignores how his breath hitches when Woojin asks him if he’s still staying long, if he’s busy, if he has time.

 

He ignores the twist in his gut when Woojin follows that up with a question: _You wanna hang out sometime?_

 

* * *

 

  
They’re going to take it easy, really. Nothing too grand. Just going for some coffee in one of Busan’s quieter neighbourhoods. Jihoon doesn’t know why he’s jittery, why he’s nervous.

 

It’s not like it’s a date or anything.

 

Just a rendez-vous between acquaintances, old childhood friends who lost each other in the storms that are their own respective lives. Catching up after, what? Six years?

 

So no, it’s not a date.

 

“It’s totally a date,” Seongwoo chirps happily on the other side of the phone.

 

“It is not, though,” Jihoon gives back even though he’s checking his hair in the mirror for the fifth time in three minutes. “Really. He’s an old childhood friend. We haven’t seen each other in like, years.”

 

On the other side of the line, Seongwoo coughs. “Ok. Sure. Isn’t that how it started out with Daniel too, though? A _not-date?_ ”

 

When Jihoon deliberately lets an awkward sort of quiet fall over them, the older coughs. “Alright. Sorry.”

 

“‘S Fine. Daniel is in the past, anyway," Jihoon shrugs, knowing he'd gotten his desired reaction. “He is happier now with someone else, and so am I with me being single and free. It was too much pressure, anyway. Plus, I still beat him during our gaming session last week, so I’m still on my winning streak.”

 

Seongwoo sighs, a little dejected. “You two are so damn complicated, and for what?”

 

“We really are not. Him and Sungwoon are good. Even more so. I’m happy for them. What we had together wasn’t that serious to begin with, anyway.”

 

Kang Daniel is the closest thing to what Jihoon would have called a ‘significant other’ in years. Except, he really wasn’t. It was a kiss or two, a hand to hold. Company in an industry that can get so damn _lonely_. And then Daniel had fallen for someone else, someone who truly made him happier than Jihoon could ever make him. And he’s made peace with it. They’re good friends, and that’s what counts.

 

If only Seongwoo would let it go.

 

He knows how this goes, usually: Seongwoo will bring up the fact Jihoon crashed and burned after they broke up, and Jihoon will say it was just another thing being added to the pile, and that he truly, really is _fine_. That it doesn’t matter — because it really, truly doesn’t.

 

Except this time, the older just grunts. “You know what, I might actually just believe you now. Either way, go enjoy your date.”

 

Jihoon runs a hand through his hair again. Make that six times in less than three minutes, now. “Again, not a date.”

 

“Right, sure. Anyway, I have to go. Some of us have _work_ to do.”

 

Jihoon snorts, but says nothing.

 

“Okay, fine. Jaehwan is dragging me to the recording booth. Wants me to listen to his new song, or something.”

 

“Well,” Now it’s Jihoon’s turn to full-on laugh. “Have fun on _that_ date!” he yells into the receiver and cackles when he hears Seongwoo sputter before hanging up.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Woojin is already sitting down in a booth near the back of the shop when Jihoon arrives. He doesn’t want to admit it, but he got a little lost on the way here. Cap pulled over his head and a scarf wrapped tightly around his neck, he takes a deep breath before pushing the door open.

 

It’s a small coffee shop Jihoon vaguely remembers stopping by at a few times back in high school. It doesn’t look too different than it did years ago. A little more modern, maybe, but recognisable nonetheless.

 

The younger perks up when the door chimes, and he breaks into a smile once he sees it’s Jihoon who entered. Jihoon smiles right back at him. It’s far from busy — empty except for an elderly couple seated on the other side of the room.

 

“I ordered for you already,” Woojin chirps as he approaches, “in case they’d recognise you, or something. My treat, by the way.” He slides the cup over and across from him.

 

“You like your coffee with lots of milk, right?” Woojin says before Jihoon can take a drink. “At least, that’s what I remember.”

 

Jihoon hesitates, scratching his throat. “Oh, uh, heh. I drink it black now, actually. With a little sugar, but still,” he says, a little quietly. Immediately, he knows he maybe shouldn’t have, because Woojin’s face falls, only ever so slightly. It’s in his eyes, in the corner of his lips. It’s the _oh, we’ve changed_ hanging in the air, unsaid but there regardless.

 

But Jihoon reaches over and, before he can think twice about it, pats Woojin’s hand on the table, giving him a bright smile. “You know what, maybe I should switch back to lattes, though. Too much caffeine makes me jittery, anyway. So it’s more than welcome.”

 

Woojin’s eyes twinkle in the fairy lights the shop owners hung up for the winter season. “I can really go get you another one, you know.”

 

“It’s fine, I mean it,” he says, holding Woojin’s gaze until the other sighs in defeat, giving in.

 

And fine it is.

 

The atmosphere between them shifts back a bit, back to the same kind of comfort from a few days ago. Their conversation takes off again — like they start again where they left off at Jinyoung’s dorm.

 

“You caught me right on time, actually,” Woojin says, “I was supposed to be at college, normally. But I’m taking some time off, until the new semester starts.”

 

Jihoon nods, but keeps quiet. He just locks his eyes to Woojin’s — tender gazes meeting each other. The younger just curves his lip upwards, a tiny little bit.

 

“Aren’t you going to ask why?” Woojin asks, after a moment, small smile on his lips and leaning forward a bit. He rests his chin on his hands.

 

“I don’t know. Do you want me to?”

 

He laughs at that. “Maybe? I don’t know. It’s not that important, I just… eh,” he pauses for a second, bites his bottom lip. “I didn’t know what I wanted in life. One moment I was thinking of becoming an idol. The next I think I should have just gone to med school or something.”

 

Jihoon nods at that. He guesses he was one of the lucky ones, if you look at it a certain way.

 

“Now I’m just trying to, you know, go with the flow.”

 

He snorts at that, giving him a skeptical look. “You sound like those surfer guys on American television.”

 

Across from him, Woojin bursts into laughter. That’s when it dawns on him — slowly, but surely nonetheless. He’s missed this. Missed Woojin. Missed how easy things were between them, even if Woojin had a bigger impact on his life than he knows.

 

This is not a secret, not at all.

 

And it’s not that scary, really.

 

What _is_ scary is the fact that now that he’s pretty sure that they’re slowly going to find their way back to each other again, Jihoon doesn’t know what he’ll do when he has to say goodbye again.


	3. sun and moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for this chapter: small warning for mentions of homophobia. nothing graphic, though.

 

_when my moon rises_

_your sun rises as well_

_under the same sky in this different time_

_our hearts are connected_

_you and i, you and i_

— nct 127

  


Time is a strange concept, truly. Before Jihoon knows it, it’s been over a month since he’s been back and he’s regularly hanging out with Jinyoung, watching movies and bickering like the old days. Before Jihoon knows it, it’s been over a month since he’s been back and he’s seen Woojin nearly every day.

 

It’s like they’re catching up for lost time. Everything is the same, except it’s not. It’s years later and they’re different people. Yet, Jihoon finds it incredibly easy to get lost in the routine that has become Park Woojin.

 

They talk about everything. Or almost, so to say. It’s clear, like a big pink elephant in a tiny room, that they are avoiding some things. Such as Jihoon going back to Seoul, like Woojin leaving to college to God knows where and when. Things like that — things that indicate that this dynamic they’ve rebuilt isn’t forever.

 

It’s quick to get lost in the normalcy of things. It’s almost funny how quickly some things become part of their everyday lives.

 

And yet, some things become brutal reminders of where they’ve been the past few years.

 

An example:

 

He’s playing a video game with Daniel when Woojin nonchalantly walks through the door of his room and makes himself comfortable on his bed. His parents don’t even look twice anymore when the younger shows up at their door, having made peace with the fact they can’t keep their only son inside for the remainder of his time here. They stopped protesting when Jihoon leaves, although he hopes they will never find out about the week he snuck out nearly every day.

 

They had lost track of the days, but it doesn’t matter — the speed at which the other had become something so permanent to his early winter days is astonishing, though.

 

He doesn’t say anything, not until Jihoon gets fatally shot and the game dies on him. He bids goodbye to a laughing Daniel before hanging up and disconnecting. Sighing, he turns to Woojin, who had been scrolling on his phone. “Hey,” the other boy says when he notices a pair of eyes on him, and he smiles.

 

“Hi,” he greets back. He stands up from his spot on the floor and joins Woojin on his bed. “What brings you here?”

 

“Was that Kang Daniel you were gaming with?”

 

It’s the tone of how he says it. That is it. Because Jihoon, for a second, remembers how different Woojin and his’ lives are. Not everyone just gets to start a game and laugh over a call with Kang Daniel. Not everyone just gets to not-date him and then not-break up with him.

 

But anyway.

 

“Huh. Yeah, it was. We’re friends.”

 

Woojin nods, and Jihoon pretends he doesn’t notice the glint in his eyes. Maybe he really is just seeing things. “Ok cool. Anyways, d’you want to go somewhere?”

 

He glances at the clock. “It’s like five in the afternoon. The sun is just about setting.”

 

“Well, perfect, then,” he says, getting up and dusting off his pants. “Let’s go for a drive, get something to eat, I don’t know.” He pauses for a second, glancing over at Jihoon’s messy desk. “You won't even have to wear your mask.”

 

Jihoon raises an eyebrow. “I’ll take it with me just in case, yeah?”

 

Woojin pouts, stepping closer when Jihoon walks over to his desk, grabbing for his mask and his hat. He fiddles with it for a second, then meets Woojin’s eyes.

 

For a second, he thinks of throwing it aside after all, but then he thinks better of it, deciding to put it in the pockets of his sweater. He smiles at Woojin, then, and the younger just stares blankly at him for a second before his lips curl upwards ever so lightly. “You ready to go, superstar?”

 

There’s something in the air, and Jihoon just wants to hear Woojin’s laugh more than anything else in the world. “Sure,” he says, and follows Woojin outside.

  


* * *

 

  
They drive through Busan with the windows down, no matter how much the cold is trying to seep into their bones, their clothes, their minds.

 

But Woojin turns up the radio volume to a girl group song and belts out the lyrics as loudly as he can — screaming out of tune until his voice is raspy, and never mind the cold outside, Jihoon has never felt so warm.

 

He looks at Jihoon when they stop at a red light, serenades him until Jihoon bursts out in laughter and joins him, getting the lyrics wrong and clutching at his stomach.

 

It feels as if the tension he didn’t know he’d been holding has been lifted. Behind them, a car honks, because they’ve completely forgotten the light had turned green again.

 

Woojin jumps up in surprise, looking forward again and ending the moment, but with a small smile on his lips.

 

They buy fried chicken at a small roadside restaurant, and when Jihoon is about to make a comment about his diet when he realises he doesn’t _have to_ , for the first time in years.

 

“What’re you smiling about?” Woojin questions, chewing with his mouth open.

 

“Just. Chicken, you know. I haven’t had disgustingly greasy food in so damn long.”

 

“Oh,” Woojin says, attempting to let the look on his face falter into one of disappointment. The amused grin never leaves his lips, though. “Almost thought it was because of me.”

 

His heart. God damn it. “You wish, Park.”

 

When Woojin drops him back off that night, they sit in silence in his car for a while. As if being in each other’s presence is enough for now. Maybe it is.

 

It’s what they’ve been doing since they walked back into each other’s lives, that day in Jinyoung’s dorm room. Just them, hanging out, being _together._

 

This, much like everything else tonight, feels a little different.

 

“You,” Woojin starts lazily after a minute or so, hands fiddling with the radio buttons, not looking at the boy beside him, “are an enigma, Park Jihoon. I used see you on TV all the time, we’ve been best friends, we’ve hung out like every day lately for the past, what? Two weeks?” He finally looks up, meets Jihoon’s gaze and pins him down just like that. “And yet, I sometimes don’t think I know you at all.”

 

Jihoon laughs nervously, throat closing on him. “What do you mean?”

 

“I just can’t figure you out,” the younger responds earnestly. He leans over, closer, _too close_. Neither of them look away, not even when Woojin leans in a little bit. If he notices how Jihoon’s breath hitches, he wisely decides not to comment on it. “Tell me something honest, before I let you out and let you walk away for the night.”

 

Jihoon gulps, but he nods. “I didn’t want to come here,” he admits to the other. It’s out before he knows it, as if Woojin has bewitched him. “I mean. Not here as in out here with you, but...”

 

Woojin quirks his eyebrows, but nods in understanding, silently urging Jihoon to elaborate. “It’s just been a long time since I’ve been here. I mean, I’ve been around for work purposes and stuff but… this is different. It was… scary and unexpected.”

 

The other boy leans back, finally giving Jihoon a little bit of space to breathe. It comes as a relief, but at the same time he craves Woojin’s proximity, his warmth. “Guess it wasn’t the plan, huh?”

 

“I guess so.” He bites his lip. He looks at the front door of the house for a moment. His parents are probably asleep by now, but there is still a light in the hall. He knows his mother left it on for when he came home.

 

 _Home_.

 

He looks at Woojin again when the other speaks up.

 

“I’m glad you are here, though. Coincidence truly does not exist.” It comes like an afterthought, almost, but Woojin’s words make Jihoon feel like he’s floating, somewhere in the stars above them.

 

It’s the warmth that spreads throughout his chest, the feeling of being sixteen and of having Park Woojin around him, that makes him not want to leave this. Not now, not ever.

 

But he has to, eventually. So he asks, “What about you, you got plans? I mean, except that vague stuff you told me a while back.”   

 

“I... uh… I don’t know about plans. But I still really love dancing, as you can tell. So maybe that.”

 

“I see.”

 

Woojin shrugs, turns the radio completely off. Huh, Jihoon hadn’t even noticed it had still been playing. His fingers tap the steering wheel to a non-existent rhythm, drumming irregularly as he ponders. “After high school I just didn’t know where to go, you know? I told you. But dancing, it has always been who I was. Remember when we used to challenge each other to learn idol’s choreographies fastest?”

 

He does. He could never forget. “Yeah.”

 

“I guess it never went away, and I’m glad for that. All of our friends were off to college, studying something fancy, and you were already hitting it big. They used to sell juice boxes with your face on.” He laughs, shaking his head when Jihoon visibly cringes.

 

He lets them come down from it, lets himself fade into a bittersweet chuckle. “But I just… _eh_. Anyway, a summer passed and all I had was dancing and my parents expecting me to do something with my life. I did take the entrance exam in senior year, you know. Got into a nice college not too far away and everything. Postponed it because nothing in my head was clear anymore.”

 

Jihoon remembers something, lets it slip past his lips before he knows it. “That’s when you started teaching dance? You know, in the academy?”

 

“Yup,” Woojin says, and he seems a little surprised Jihoon would remember such things when they have barely talked about this until now. “I’d been like, volunteering there and stuff. But when I told Mr. Lee I’d be staying back for a little while more, he offered me a job. It’s part-time, it’s not much. But it’s given me time and a clear perspective, I guess.”

 

He sighs, and Jihoon sees the clouds of cold air escaping his lips. “Dancing is still the only constant, though. I guess that’s what acting was for you.”

 

With the other’s eyes on him like that, Jihoon tenses a little. It’s almost embarrassing how easy he lets his guard down around Woojin. They don’t talk about… this. They don’t talk about Jihoon’s field of work or his career past vague mentions and insinuations.

 

Maybe tonight the stars really aligned differently, because nothing is like usual.

 

So Jihoon takes a deep breath, and says, “Not really, actually. I mean… I knew I wanted to be an actor ever since I was young. But when I came to Seoul, suddenly everything I knew became so blurry. My first company,” he lets out something between a sigh and a breathy laugh, “They wanted me to debut in a group. They had me taking vocal lessons for a while. Dancing, too. I was starting to even like it, after a while. But it was hard at first. And then the debut fell through and I left.”

 

Woojin purses his lips, but says nothing.

 

“I can’t count the amount of times I stood in Seoul Station. Ready to just… go back. Leave it all.”

 

“Hah. We could’ve suffered together, then. Start our own company.”

 

Jihoon scoffs, amused. “Park and Park Entertainment.”

 

The smile on Woojin’s face is blinding. His eyes crinkle at their corners. “It has a nice ring to it, I must admit.”

 

The silence is fragile as it falls, and defending when it breaks. “I think you did pretty damn well, you know.”

 

Jihoon feels his cheeks heat up. “I’m sure you’ll get there as well.” He pauses, swallows, takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry I didn’t visit. I’m sorry it took all this” — he gestures with his hand to the air around them — “for me to come back. I wasn’t even sure you’d still be here.”

 

It’s then that Woojin finally does what Jihoon realises he’s wanted him to do all this time — he reaches out, takes Jihoon’s hand into his.

 

“Coincidence truly does not exist,” he repeats his words from earlier, and Jihoon’s heart is just about to jump out of his chest. He squeezes Woojin’s hand instead, a _Thank you_ , an _I’m Sorry_.

 

Maybe, just maybe, an _I Love You_.

  


* * *

 

 

 

Something fundamentally changes that night, in Woojin’s car, breaths mingling in the small space between them as they talked. Another shift in an ever changing dynamic. But this time, it’s more drastic, more… out there. Almost tangible, palpable.

 

It’s kind of scary.

 

And it sucks.

 

He hates this. He hates the thought of needing love advice. He’s played in plenty of movies and dramas, did plenty of stage productions to understand the basics of love.

 

And yet, yet, here he is, pressing call on a FaceTime chat with none other than Kang Daniel himself.

 

They haven’t really talked about things since they’d called whatever it was between them off. It had just happened — they broke up, broke off whatever it was they had because it simply had to be that way, and after about three days of radio silence and a minor amount of sulking from the both of them, Daniel had sent him a battle invite on this game he’d recently found online. They'd played, laughed a little in between, cracked jokes at each other's expense, and that had been that.

 

It's casual, what they have now. Jokes and laughter and basically everything they had been before the kisses and the cuddles.

 

But this, this is different. So excruciatingly different. He doesn’t even know what he’s going to say, which is ironic considering his job is pretty much to be a professional speaker, or at least something along those lines.

 

“So… heh... you know Sungwoon?” Jihoon starts, and immediately wants to facepalm himself when Daniel starts laughing.

 

“I guess I do, yeah,” he says, snickering at the mention of his boyfriend.

 

Jihoon groans. “I have a problem.”

 

“A problem?” A skeptical chuckle.

 

“Please don’t make me spell it out, hyung.”

 

On the other end of the line, Jihoon sees Daniel grin. “Who’s the lucky one?”

 

He chews his lip at that. Lucky one? He's not too sure about that. Not with _that_ thing hanging in between them. Not when he doesn't know if it's a risk worth taking — both for his own sake as for Woojin's.

 

Woojin had been, well, the closest thing to Jihoon's had to a stereotypical gay awakening. Shy transfer student falling for his straight best friend, getting his heart broken — it could not possibly have been any more cliché.

 

But now Woojin is back in his life. Or he is back in Woojin's. Whatever.

 

And he swears, he _swears_ he'd gotten over it.

 

But you don't forget first loves. Aren't meant to, aren't supposed to. And he guesses, no matter how much more this complicates it, he can't escape falling again.

 

He sighs.

 

Daniel raises an eyebrow at his silence, and Jihoon jumps up from having been lost in his own thoughts. "Damn, it really is that deep, huh?"

 

Jihoon barks out a laugh at that. "I don't know. Is it? I think I'm just confused."

 

"About?"

 

"Dunno. What I feel, what I want, what it means."

 

"Is she— are they? Uh?"

 

" _He_ was my best friend in high school," Jihoon clarifies, and Daniel gives him an understanding nod.

 

The connection creaks a little bit. Outside, he hears the door click out of its lock. His mother must be coming home.

 

"I didn't expect to run into him."

 

Daniel nods again. "Yeah, that much is obvious. Is he, you know, into guys?"

 

Huh. Jihoon hadn't actually thought about that. He'd been too pent-up with his own emotional conflict, with his own thoughts. He hadn't considered either option, really — whatever Woojin's preferences were, Jihoon doesn't have it in him to hope. He looks up to see Daniel watch him with a curious gaze, and shrugs. "I don't know."

 

"Ah," he chuckles — a natural response, not one out of malice. After all, it _is_ nation's sunshine Kang Daniel he is talking to — "that's quite... yeah."

 

"Yeah."

 

A silence falls between them. Jihoon looks away, through the window where the Winter sun is slowly setting. Woojin had a class to teach, hence why Jihoon grasped the opportunity to call Daniel about this _now_. He listens to the noises coming from the kitchen, his mother coming home from work and setting up things for dinner. He should probably help out soon.

 

Except—

 

"Hyung?"

 

Daniel nods. "Yeah?"

 

"How did you know?" Jihoon starts. "How did you know Sungwoon was the one for you?"

 

Another laugh, purely Daniel-esque. A happy one. "It just happened, I don't know. It's not like I woke up one day and realised I was in love with him. It was gradually, really. Also," he chuckles, "we still had our _thing_ going on."

 

Jihoon sits back, leaning into his chair. "Oh. Our _thing_. You know, I'm pretty sure Seongwoo hyung thinks you were my first love."

 

"Well," Daniel muses, face morphing into a more thoughtful expression. “I wasn't, even I knew that. We weren’t in love with each other in the first place, Jihoon. If we had been, you wouldn’t be calling me about this, or at all.”

 

It’s true, he supposes. And yet.

 

Is what he feels for Woojin love, then? Is it what he feels for him _now_ , love?

 

He doesn't know. He doesn't know and it's killing him.

 

"You okay, Hoon?" Daniel asks, brows raised.

 

Jihoon hums in response, suddenly afraid of his voice cracking if he speaks.

 

"You'll be fine," the older reassures him, and smiles softly. "You'll figure it out. For now, just try to enjoy your time in Busan. It'll be over before you know it."

 

Something in his chest clenches, wraps around his heart and squeezes tightly. The thought of it ending so soon, it's scary. It is so scary thinking he might leave and go back and make the same mistakes and lose Woojin again. Things are different now, they've grown, they've grown _closer_ , too.

 

And it's not because of Woojin, no. At least not _just_ because of him. But why does the thought of him having to go back to his actor life, just like before, scare him more than coming here could ever do?

  


* * *

 

  
The changing of the seasons comes as a blur to them. Jihoon gets dragged back to his family in Masan for three days — a mandatory family visit, but it’s nice enough especially since he's missed out on the past four ones, or so — and spends the remaining days lazing around.

 

Something has been bugging him, though. He's usually quick to his feet, all emotional constipation _(credits go to Sungwoon for that one)_ aside. He's learnt to shove feelings aside, learned how to cope with things and build walls.

 

But then Woojin comes along, walks back into his life and shakes up everything he's come to know about the world and about himself in the past years. An unstoppable force, knocking the wind right out of him. Just like that.

 

He should have figured it out by now. It's been over a month, and almost every day Woojin comes, hits Jihoon with a whirlwind of feelings he can't pinpoint exactly, and leaves with the moonlight on his face and the stars in his eyes.

 

He's too bright for his own good.

 

"D'you wanna go to the beach tonight?" the other boy asks when Jihoon picks up the phone.

 

Jihoon laughs at that. "Tonight? You do know it's like, freezing outside, right? Did you want to go swimming, or?"

 

"Shut up. No, I don't. I just..." he pauses, and Jihoon images what the look in the other's eyes must be like right now. He's glad he can't see it, be it for the sake of his own heart. "Every time we go out during the day, we've had to be more low-key, no? Wasn't it fun, that one night we went for a drive? Let's just, I don't know..."

 

When Jihoon doesn't immediately answer, the other continues, voice a little more quiet, "We don't have to, I mean. I was just, you know... since the Christmas lights are still on and we haven't really gone anywhere since you got back from Masan."

 

His poor, poor heart. " _But!_ Like I said! We don't have to!"

 

"No, no. I want to. Please. Pretty please. It's just," he sighs, and Woojin just knows.

 

Jihoon knows that he knows, because Woojin says, "Don't be nervous. It is me you're with. If someone bothers you, we'll just tell them off nicely, or something."

 

It's not _that_ , specifically. It really isn't. He knows that people know he is in Busan, he's seen the tweets and the posts on Pann. Fans saying they've been wondering where he is, how he's doing. Wondering, speculating.

 

It wouldn't be the end of the world, being recognised. Maybe, just maybe, it would even make him feel better. Maybe it's what he needs, to know people are still out there waiting for him.

 

But he likes this. He likes laying low for a while, likes hanging out with Woojin or going to the movies with Jinyoung. He likes being able to go for some fresh air without feeling like he's being watched all the time, like the world is scrutinising his actions, _waiting_.

 

And it's not like he didn't have the chance to breathe in Seoul. It was different. _This_ is different, because he feels like he can just be Jihoon like this — the one he'd left behind the first day he'd stepped into the company and they told him they'd make him _big_. He can let his guard down, here, and it's something he didn't know he'd needed until now.

 

Woojin comes to pick him up when the sun has long set, and Jihoon waits him up outside wrapped in a thick scarf. It’s not to hide himself, it’s just really fuckin’ cold. The younger smiles at him, kind of gives him a half-concerned laugh when he sees Jihoon shiver a little.

 

They drive in silence. This is not unusual for them — both boys lost in their own thoughts, daydreams, worries. They don’t need to share them, because being in each other’s company is enough to reassure each other, even if it’s just for a while.

 

The voice of the DJ on the radio is the only sound between them, and Jihoon almost dozes off for a second. He doesn’t notice Woojin glancing over to him, studying him.

 

“We are here,” Woojin announces after a little while, pulling in on a free parking spot. There aren’t many people around at this time of the evening, especially since it's a weekday too, so it’s quiet except for the wind and the rushing of the waves.

 

"I'm not going _on_ the beach, Woojin," Jihoon states when the younger hops off the promenade and steps onto the sand. " _Woojin."_

 

The younger laughs. "Come on, now. How long has it been since you've seen the sea like this?"

 

"It's not like I can see the sea clearly now either, asshole. It's dark!"

 

Woojin bursts out in a fit of laughter that is way too loud for his own good. He walks over, closer to Jihoon, and pulls at his arms. " _Pleaaaase,_ just for a minute."

 

Jihoon tries to pull back, knowing it's a lost fight. "I'm not trying to catch hypothermia or something." He sees Woojin pout, and rolls his eyes before joining him on the sand. "Alright.  _Fine,_ but one minute and then I'm going back to the sand-free, solid ground."

 

The younger boy laughs brightly, pulling him along towards the shoreline. It's playful — they're running and yelling at each other like two teenagers, the whole world around them disappearing except for them. They pause at the water, just far away enough to not get wet. Woojin playfully tries to push Jihoon, who, in the dark, gives him a stern look. "I will seriously push _you_ ," he warns, and Woojin giggles, but doesn't try anything else.

 

They huddle together like that; in the darkness, in front of the waves and cold sand creeping into their shoes and in between their toes. The only light comes from the buildings behind them, from the bright lights of the bridge in the distance. Jihoon looks over at Woojin, who has his eyes focused on the oncoming tide.

 

After an eternity, Woojin looks up, meets Jihoon's gaze. Time is at a standstill like this, and the moment only gets broken when a particularly nasty gust of wind makes Jihoon shiver. "Huh," Woojin muses, reaching over and taking Jihoon's hand in his. "You're so cold."

 

"It _is_ cold, I can't believe you're not dying right now."

 

Woojin smiles, and something warm spreads through Jihoon's chest.

 

"Let's go back? There's a café on nearby where I used to have a part-time job. Their hot chocolate is really good, swear." He starts walking back, and as if it's natural, lets his hand slide back into Jihoon's, into a more proper grip, pulling him along.

 

Jihoon's heart is leaping out of his chest, through his throat and almost past his lips. Instead, he swallows, and thinks about how this doesn't mean anything at all.

 

It is while they’re walking through one of the smaller shopping streets, in search for the little café Woojin recommended, when the world turns on its axis. It's not the first time, but definitely the worst by now. Woojin is blabbering over something Minhyun had told him the other day and about something one of the kids he teaches did during the lesson today when he freezes in his tracks, squeezing Jihoon's hand tightly.

 

Huh. He hadn't even noticed their fingers were still entwined like this. It should scare him, but it doesn’t.

 

But that's not it, that's not the reason why the world collapses, turns on its axis, _burns_. Whatever. No. Jihoon wishes it was.

 

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a group of boys around their age approaching. They're not paying any attention to them, though, but Woojin freezes up regardless. For a second, he thinks Woojin might unfreeze, giggle, continue.

 

He doesn't.

 

No. Instead, he gives Jihoon a panicked look, and promptly wraps him up in a tight hug.

 

Jihoon can’t breathe — not just figuratively, this time. Woojin is squeezing him so tightly, burying his head in the crook of his neck as if his life depends on them. Carefully, Jihoon hugs him back, wraps his arms around the other's waist lightly. He hopes the erratic beating of his heart is for his own ears only.

 

After what feels like an eternity, Woojin pulls back enough to face him at a proper distance, but still close enough to touch. “Eh, sorry, I just.” He coughs awkwardly, looking away, over Jihoon’s shoulder into the distance. “Saw someone I really didn’t want to see.”

 

"Are you... uh... are you okay?" Jihoon inquires, not entirely letting go but putting a fair amount of distance between them regardless.

 

Woojin nods, and for a second everything looks quite peaceful again, but then his eyes widen. "Fuck. _Fuck."_

 

"What is it?"

 

“I... huh... I _hugged_ you. It’s instinct, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Usually when I’m out with Youngmin or Jinyoung or anyone and this happens I just… yeah.”

 

Jihoon raises an eyebrow. He doesn't get it. Is Woojin ashamed? "What's the problem?"

 

“Fuck. Jihoon,” he hisses, voice low. He sounds agitated, as if Jihoon's just isn't  _getting it_. “Fuck. What if someone saw us?”

 

Oh.

 

_Oh._

 

Wow.

 

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s all good.” He pauses, thinking about his next words and whether he should say them. “It is _you_. It's you, so I don’t mind."

 

Woojin looks up. He had let go of Jihoon's hand, now nervously fiddling with his own fingers. "Sorry. I don't want you to get in trouble because someone saw."

 

Jihoon shrugs. "I don't think anyone saw. And even if they did, I don't care." As he says it, he realises it's the truth. "But tell me what happened?”

 

It's how they still end up in the small café Woojin had been looking for, two hot chocolates and a plate of cookies between them, the atmosphere around them completely different. A kind of tense he hasn't felt in between them for a long, long time. "Uh, so. That was my ex-boyfriend, I guess. And his friends."

 

It's completely unexpected, and a million, billion thoughts come rushing into Jihoon's mind at the mention of, “A… a boyfriend?”

 

The younger stops talking mid-sentence, and there’s a flash of something Jihoon recognises as mild panic in his eyes. “Yeah? Is there… a problem?”

 

"No, oh my god, not at all." If Woojin only knew. "I just—"

 

"Didn't expect it?" Woojin chuckles, taking a tentative sip from his drink. "No one does, I guess. I'm about as straight as a circle. I'm sorry you had to find out this way, I guess."

 

Jihoon shakes his head, unsure how to process this. Woojin likes _boys_. "I'm sorry you had to tell me like this," he murmurs, and carefully reaches out his hand, over the table, and pats the top of Woojin's. "I get it, though. More than you know."

 

Now, it's Woojin's turn to have his eyes widen a little. Jihoon thinks he hears the other's breath hitch in his throat, but he can't be too sure. "You..."

 

"Yeah," Jihoon answers, a twinkle in his eyes. "But this isn't about me, tell me about _you_."

 

Woojin shrugs, forcing his curiosity down and letting his facial expression morph into something more neutral. Jihoon can tell he is kind of forcing it, but lets him be. Running into your ex must have been a rollercoaster already, let alone having to come out like this. Jihoon gets it. He _gets_ it and he hopes Woojin understands that he does. But he doesn't say anything, just taps Woojin's hand again with a soft smile before grabbing a cookie from the little plate in the middle of the table.

 

“There's nothing much to tell," Woojin muses after a minute. "I mean, he was kind of an asshole. We met at this frat party, like a year and a half ago. He goes to Jinyoung's college. Things just kind of started there. I think after a while he knew I had feelings for him, and he still kissed me despite... _yeah._ ”

 

“So it didn’t work out?” Jihoon asks dumbly, causing a snicker from the other. It sounds a little choked-up, sad, but Woojin doesn’t address it so he doesn’t dare to ask.

 

“Nah. He told me boys don’t count when it’s another boy.”

 

"Damn," Jihoon responds. "That's..."

 

"Yup," Woojin says, reaching out for the last snack on the plate. He takes a bite, munches on it. "It is fine. I'm over it, you know. Seeing him is just hard. I just wish I didn't have to find out someone I liked was a lowkey homophobe this way."

 

There is something in his voice, some kind of determination, a challenge. Like he's still trying to prove it to himself. Jihoon just nods, lets the younger collect himself. And then, he shakes his head, shrugs, looks at Jihoon. "What about you, though? You got your heart broken yet?"

 

It's the lazy kind of tone, reminding him of the idle conversations they've had while they're both in Woojin's car, while lying side by side on Jihoon's bed or the couch, while Jihoon does the dishes and Woojin sits at the kitchen table. It was never this... strangely personal, though. At least not in the way it is now.

 

 _Yes, almost, by you_ , _but I did that to myself_ , Jihoon almost says, but he knows he shouldn't and for once, his brain-to-mouth filter doesn't fail him. Technically, he did that to himself, either way.

 

He does opt for some honesty, though. "I didn't get to date a lot. It gets too busy, no matter how cliché that stuff sounds." He looks up, and it's a mistake. It's a mistake because Woojin is watching him with _that_ kind of gaze, the gaze Jihoon can't decipher.

 

Well, he started, might as well finish now. "There was... _someone_ I had this… uh... mutual understanding with. He's really nice, and even now we're still friends. He's great, but he found someone else and I really am happy for them. At the time, though, it left me wishing I could do that too, that I could have something like that too."

 

Woojin chews on his lip for a moment. A habit Jihoon hasn't seen him do before, and he finds himself wondering if he'd picked it up from him.

 

"I hope you do. I hope you find someone who makes you happy." Woojin's voice comes with such sincerity and it hurts. It hurts because Jihoon's heart just goes _you, you, you, it's still you_.

 

"I hope you know you deserve it."

 

Jihoon simply nods at that, scared that he'll something stupid if he dares to open his mouth. Such as _"I love you"_ or " _You might be the one"_ or _“You make me happy”_.

 

He can't. He can't do that to Woojin.

 

Not because he doesn't want to, but because Woojin deserves so much better.

 

And he doesn’t mean it in a self-pity way. He means it in the way that one day, Jihoon might have to leave again, that one day soon they might have to part ways again. He means it in the way that Jihoon doesn’t know if he wants to burden Woojin with his feelings when it’s something that might have been doomed from the very beginning.

 

He doesn’t say any of those things, just looks at the younger and smiles. “You deserve it too, you know.”

 

And Jihoon thinks it’s so, so cruel that his mind imagines Woojin looking at him with a heart full of feelings left unsaid, too.


	4. you and i

 

_we can meet in the middle_

_bodies and souls collide_

_dance in the moonlight_

_where all the stars align_

— pvris

 

New Year’s comes and goes in the blink of an eye. Both boys spend it with their own families, huddled together in their living rooms, waiting for a new year to begin. Jihoon hasn't had this in years. It feels foreign, a little strange — but not unwelcome at all. It's nice. It's so, so nice.

 

But it is also a reminder of how fast time passes. Suddenly the scene on the beach looks like it was a lifetime ago, even when it was barely a _week_. Things haven’t really progressed further into another territory in any way, and Jihoon thinks that’s fine.

 

The epiphany he really liked Woojin had been a long time coming — something he should have realised the moment he called Daniel for love advice — but to have _that_ happen and have his heart broken by no one but himself within the same two milliseconds, okay, _well_.

 

That’s another story, another set of feelings.

 

It’s alright, though. He’s fine. He’s dealing. Because despite it all, it also made him realise time between them is precious, especially since neither of them know how long it lasts. Because Woojin might be going to college in a little over a month, and Jihoon might get dragged back into his showbizz busy no-air life and roll back into the hectic schedule that used to be his life from before.

 

The thing is that it essentially comes down to this: they don’t know how much time they have left, and they really try their hardest to not talk about it. Instead, they spend the moments they can spend together, together. Instead, they talk and play games — Woojin even plays PUBG with Daniel once. Instead, they wander around in the falling dusk after Woojin’s last class of the day ends, hands brushing past each other, barely touching but still close enough.

 

They’re just trying to enjoy it, because Jihoon is terrified of thinking that he might lose touch with Woojin again, that he might lose this friendship they’ve tried so hard (yet, it came so easily, really) to rebuild, that he will the trade the years they just spent catching up on for another period of time where they are not in each other’s lives.

 

But they are older now. Wiser, too, he hopes. They’ve grown, and Jihoon allows himself to think they might be fine as friends even after they part.

 

Emphasis on _as friends._

 

But that doesn’t mean they will talk about it, though. Neither of them want to, that much is obvious, no matter how much of an elephant in the room it becomes sometimes.

 

Jinyoung gets them together well after all the holiday decorations have been removed from the streets, the trees, and people’s living rooms. His roommate is out of town for another weekend, still with his family, and he thinks it’s a good opportunity to celebrate a belated New Year’s party.

 

He gets out the drinks, much to Minhyun’s disapproval. The older has to go back up to Seoul tomorrow because of his job, and he whines about having to _drag the kids’ drunk asses home during the night_. Jinyoung assures them they will be fine… for a little bit, at least.

 

Nothing he can do about it, right?

 

Minhyun plops down on the couch next to Jihoon with a huff. Woojin had just stepped out for a minute, talking and laughing with someone Jihoon doesn’t know. He ignores the spark of something — _jealousy,_ his mind supplies him, but he ignores it — in his chest.

 

“How’re you doing, Hoon?” Minhyun asks, nonchalantly leaning back and making himself comfortable in Woojin’s vacant spot.

 

“I’m good. Fine. Great, even,” Jihoon says, and he means it. “Better than I’ve been in a while, I suppose.”

 

Minhyun nods as Jihoon takes a swing from his soju glass. “Heard from Daniel you called him the other day.”

 

It makes Jihoon nearly spit out his drink, giving the older an incredulous look. “What?”

 

“Okay, technically, Sungwoon told me. You know how he is, but yeah.”

 

Jihoon heaves an exasperated sigh. Damn it. He should have known introducing Minhyun to some of his idol friends would backfire someday. “Did he tell you why?”

 

Minhyun shrugs. “No, but I guessed it right, so.”

 

The older looks at him, and Jihoon kind of wants to _run_. It’s not like he doesn’t trust Minhyun — quite the contrary, actually — but he’s always been the middle ground between his life in Seoul and in Busan, and therefore by extension between Jihoon and Woojin. A family friend of both, and pretty much Woojin’s confidant. Him and Minhyun are _close_ , sure, but Woojin clings to him like he's his own brother.

 

“Don’t tell him, please,” Jihoon pleads, not knowing what else to do. He just receives a hum in response.

 

“You know, I don’t know why I shouldn’t. What’s stopping you? There is clearly something there.”

 

Jihoon scoffs. “According to who? My deluded mind? And besides, it won’t work out, so why try?”

 

“Woojin tells me things, you know. I get an inkling of a feeling that he is just as scared as you are.”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

He doesn’t know what else to say. It’s always this, always the _i don’t know, i really don’t know._ Because he _doesn’t_. Instead of humoring Minhyun, he just reaches over to the table to refill his glass.

 

The other boy isn’t done, though. Patiently, he waits until Jihoon has swallowed his drink and put his glass a safe distance away from his mouth. “So what _do_ you want, Jihoonie?”

 

Jihoon looks anywhere but Minhyun’s eyes. He sees Woojin leaning against the balcony outside, sees Jinyoung huddle with some friends, paying no mind to him. “Is it bad that I don’t know that either?”

 

“No, it’s not,” Minhyun smiles. “I mean, maybe that’s biased, coming from me. Maybe it’s not the smartest thing, in your position. But I think it makes sense.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Sure. It’s the whole double life thing, isn’t it?”

 

This is getting a little too deep for his liking, and Jihoon is both not sober enough, neither not drunk enough for it. He knows what Minhyun means, and Minhyun knows he’s right about it, too. Jihoon loves what he does. _Adores it,_ really. More than anything else. It’s his life, it’s something he chose to do.

 

But he realises that he’d forgotten how to breathe until he came here. He realises he’d forgotten how to just be Jihoon, young adult trying to find his place in a world as chaotic as it is.

 

And now he’s stuck — stuck in a middle ground he feels like he shouldn’t be in, isn't _allowed_ to be in, stuck in between two realities constantly pressing closer and closer, asking him to make a decision.

 

He knows he has time, is allowed to take time. His company loves him, the public does, his friends up in Seoul do. He knows they’ll wait.

 

But for how long? How long is too long?

 

He doesn’t get to ponder on it for much longer, because Minhyun pats his knee, bringing him out of his thoughts. “You don’t have to decide anything now, yeah? And there is a middle ground, I promise you. We will find it, okay?”

 

Jihoon knows, he _knows, knows, knows_. He does, truly, but it being there and it being able to actually work for him are two different things. And just because it would work for him, doesn't mean it will work for his friends here, for _Woojin._

 

But Minhyun just smiles at him, eyes searching for Jihoon’s until the other simply gives in and nods.

 

He thinks this is it — this should be the part where his night stops being messy and full of some weird kind of existential dread, but apparently not.

 

“Ah, hey, Woojin,” Jinyoung says, much later, after Minhyun and most of the other had left, nudging the other boy with his bare foot. How he managed to lose both his shoes _and_ one single sock is a mystery. It _is_ Jinyoung’s dorm room, though, so whatever.

 

Woojin gives him a stink eye, but indulges him anyway. “Hmm?”

 

“Have you decided on your college yet?”

 

The world stops. The silence that falls is so heavy Jihoon unknowingly struggles for air for a split second, breath hitching. He thinks no one notices, but Woojin does, unbeknownst to him.

 

The boy’s eyes fly to Jihoon for a second, then to the drink in his hands, then to Jinyoung. He breathes deeply. “Nothing’s sure yet. I have time, don’t I?”

 

Which is exactly what Minhyun told him earlier. Ironic.

 

Jinyoung shrugs, sitting more upright. “Guess you do. Not much though. I’m so excited to move to Seoul in a few months, wouldn’t it be great if we could go _together?_ ”

 

Jihoon splutters, having chosen the moment to take a sip from his glass. It’s water, by now, thank God. But still, bad choice of timing.

 

The younger looks over, eyes widening as if he’d forgotten he’s still there. Then, his eyes relax into something more blissed again, mixed with a little bit of mischief.

 

“The three of us, imagine that,” he says, leaning over and putting his elbows on his knees. He leans his head on the palm of his hand, staring at the lazily. “I mean, you’ll be going back to your Superstar, Nation’s Rookie Boyfriend life, but still!”

 

Woojin coughs awkwardly. “Jinyoung—”

 

“No, no, don’t _Jinyoung_ me! You and I talk about it _aaaaallll the timeeee_ ,” Jinyoung muses. “Isn’t that right?”

 

The other is silent, and Jihoon looks away the moment their eyes meet. “I suppose so,” he mumbles. “Either way, we should be heading home and all. Can’t face my kids with a hangover tomorrow.” The laugh he barks out isn’t completely forced, but it _is_ awkward enough to sound insincere.  

 

Jinyoung, seemingly unaware of the tension between Woojin and Jihoon, gets up together with them to guide them to the door. He holds them tightly in a hug, thanking them for coming and wishing them a safe ride home, saying that he’ll see them soon.

 

“You good to drive?” Jihoon asks, clearing his throat. It’s cold outside, the biting wind being unforgiving to them. Jihoon thinks bitterly how it’s even colder between them, for some reason.

 

They shouldn’t have a reason to feel this way: they _know_ about this. It shouldn’t have put a small ball of anxiety in Jihoon’s chest, in his stomach. It shouldn’t have made Woojin look like he’s about to make his lips bleed from biting on them.

 

“Yeah, I think so. I only drank a glass or two with Haknyeon earlier. I should be good to go.”

 

“I can drive us home, you know,” Jihoon offers, and Woojin gives him a long look. He contemplates it, Jihoon can tell, but in the end he just makes move to the driver’s seat himself.

 

Before he gets in, he looks at Jihoon again. “It will be fine. You drank too, Just so you know. I think I’m more eligible to drive than you are, right now. ‘Preciate the offer, though.” There’s a small smile on his lips, _something_ in his eyes.

 

The laugh Jihoon gives him back disperses the tension even a little bit. “Fine,” he mumbles, getting in. Anything to escape from the biting cold from a while.

 

The drive is silent. Completely. Woojin doesn’t turn the radio on, neither does Jihoon make a move to do so. When they arrive at Jihoon’s house, they sit in silence again for a while. They always do, ever since that first time. Sometimes to talk, because they never run out of things to talk about. Sometimes just in comfortable silence, the sound of the radio between them.

 

Now, it feels a little strange. Like they _should_ be talking, they should be listening to the radio and relaxing. But they’re not.

 

So, after a minute that feels like an hour, Jihoon clears his throat. “Thanks for the ride, really. I’ll… see you?”

 

Woojin nods. “Sure thing. See you.”

 

The feeling when he enters the house, goes upstairs, changes into something more comfortable, crawls into bed is one of weirdness. Of confusion. He drifts off to sleep not knowing whether he wishes that things were different and that he could’ve taken it easier, or that he’d just never ran into Woojin when his feelings are like this.

 

He guesses he’ll just never know.

 

 

* * *

 

Two days pass and it’s weird. It’s _weird._ Woojin doesn’t spam text him as usual, doesn’t call him after work to ask him to hang out. They do text, _sure,_ but there’s an edge to it now. Things have gone unsaid and ignored for too long.

 

Jinyoung asks him in the little group chat they’d created if anyone wants to go see a movie with him. He doesn’t know why, but when Minhyun says he can’t because he’s in Seoul and Woojin responds that he’d love to, he just pockets his phone and leaves it at that.

 

So, two days pass. Two days of their ever-changing dynamic having shifted into something strange and weird. Two days before Jihoon finds himself pulling on his mask, putting on his cap, and wandering the streets.

 

Jinyoung had texted him. He’d tried to call, too, but Jihoon had been asleep. It’s an apology, because Woojin had told him what had happened. Jihoon tells him it’s fine, that they’ll be okay, that it wasn’t super serious. They just had to figure this out, is all.

 

So, Jinyoung had urged them to talk, told Jihoon to look for Woojin.

 

That’s how he, whether it was on purpose or not is not important, ends up in front of the dance school. The exact same spot he’d seen Woojin enter, weeks and _weeks_ ago. It doesn’t even feel like it was this lifetime. He’s not sure whether to go in or not, but his feet decide for him.

 

It’s on the second floor, to the right. He knows because Woojin told him how he used to get lost all the time when the school got renewed after he’d just started teaching. Jihoon looks on his watch and sees that Woojin’s lesson is about to end in about ten minutes.

 

He goes up the stairs, quietly as he can. It’s not too busy, despite a lot of classes going on at this hour. He hears Woojin before he sees him.

 

“Okay, one more time and then we’ll wrap up? Is that okay?” His voice is a little higher, it’s sweeter. Jihoon walks over to the glass door, where some people are already waiting — likely to pick up their kids after class. He watches Woojin with intent, close enough to see properly but far enough that the women next to the door don’t pay attention to him or notice him in the first place.

 

It is mesmerising. It truly is. The way he guides the kids through the choreography, the way he encourages them on. It’s adorable, it’s amazing. He almost wants to start clapping when the song ends.

 

Jihoon stands back and waits as the kids filter out. Then, he sneaks in when Woojin isn’t looking. The other boy has his back turned to him, fiddling with his phone and the speakers. Jihoon waits for him to turn around, not wanting to startle him.

 

Anxiety creeps up on him, just a little. He thinks that maybe he should’ve just texted him and ask. He thinks, maybe, this wasn’t a good idea.

 

He thinks of turning when one of the kids comes running back in, almost tripping over when he nearly avoids running into Jihoon. The little girls yelps and Jihoon, on instinct, reaches out to hold her upright.

 

“A-ah…”

 

“Are you alright?” Jihoon asks, kneeling down and pulling his mask away so he can properly converse with her. In the corner of his eye, he senses Woojin turning around.

 

The little girl nods, a little dazed. “Yes, uh…” she trails off, looking for the right formalities, a quizzical look in her eyes.

 

“Good,” he smiles. “Did you need something?” he asks, tone sweet.

 

“I forgot my water bottle,” the girl says, and Jihoon lets her go to run over to Woojin to get it. The other had already taken it back to the speaker system with him, no doubt putting it away to bring back the next class so it doesn’t get stolen by someone else. Woojin smiles at her as he hands it over, and tells her to be more careful in the future.

 

Before the small girl runs off completely, she stops where Jihoon remains frozen in place. “Thank you sir, for not letting me fall!” She squints, then giggles shyly. “You are handsome. Are you oppa’s friend? You look like the people on tv my mom watches after I should go to bed.”

 

Jihoon laughs at that, a little awkward. He doesn’t get to respond, because the girl’s mother starts calling for her. Quickly, she waves at him, then at Woojin, bows, and disappears.

 

Quiet falls over them, the only sound being the disappearing footsteps of the girl and her mother. Jihoon looks at Woojin, who gives him a soft smile, but doesn’t walk over.

 

“Jinyoung told me that Youngmin told Minhyun you’d be here,” Jihoon says, a little sheepish, and Woojin looks like he’s glowing when he looks up and meets his eyes and holds his gaze.

 

“I’m sorry,” he continues, voice quiet. “I think I made things kind of awkward, didn’t I?”

 

Woojin smiles, and motions Jihoon to come closer. “I can’t believe I never showed you the dance studio,” he says instead of responding to Jihoon’s apology. “All this time and we haven’t even been here once. We walk past and from here all the time. How sad.”

 

Jihoon gives him a quizzical look, but Woojin sits down, back against the mirror, and motions Jihoon to do the same. The other boy just continues. “You know, dancing is a big part of my life, right? So when I was looking into colleges again a few months ago, it was stuff like that I was looking into. That’s what I meant with my time off here giving me a clear perspective.” He shrugs, gaze intent on his shoelaces. “I have a family friend up in Seoul. He’s one of those child prodigy rookie producers,” he laughs, ”you may have heard of him. Lee Daehwi. He’s really smart. And he’s been helping me trying to find a good course. Not a company, though, we’ll see about that if it ever happens.”

 

“That’s why Jinyoung said that?” is all Jihoon can respond.

 

Woojin just hums in response. “Yup. I guess. We talked a lot about it, even before. If I make it to Seoul, it would be great for us. We could hang out, maybe even room together. The whole college roomies experiences, you know.”

 

He pauses, and the silence makes Jihoon look up. Woojin doesn’t look away again. “And then came you.”

 

“Me?”

 

“Yeah. It was strange, kind of. I felt like I was sixteen again. Like, it’s nice. But it also feels like the months between you getting scouted and you moving away to Seoul. I’m glad to have you back, don’t get me wrong, but I’m a little scared, too.”

 

Jihoon nods at that. He’d known Woojin was scared, he’d _known_ , not only because Minhyun had directly told him, but because before years of separation there had been years of friendship and well, some things just don’t change.  

 

“What I am trying to say is,” Woojin goes on, and sighs. “Is that I’m sorry, too.”

 

It’s, once again, his heart acting before his mind does. But Jihoon reaches out of Woojin’s trembling hand, and takes it into his own. “It’s okay. We’re okay, right?”

 

“We sure are,” Woojin responds, giving his hand a squeeze.  

 

“And will we be? You know, once _that_ happens?”

 

Jihoon ponders on it. He doesn’t want to sound doubtful, because he’d long since convinced himself he’d do what he can to keep Woojin in his life. He knows _they_ will be okay, but if _he_ is not, then won’t that affect their friendship either way? “Yeah,” he says regardless, and Woojin nods. “Yeah.”

 

They sit like that for a little more. Just the two of them, hearts beating in unison. The tension isn’t completely gone, but it’s better. It’s acknowledgement — that this has to end someday, but that this doesn’t have to mean the end of them.

 

Yet, there are so many things that go wrong, because Jihoon has his own troubles and doubts about the rest of his career, not to mention the _feelings_ he harbours for Woojin.

 

First loves, you’re never meant to forget them, and it has always been said those feelings will never go away. Sitting here, side by side, just staring ahead while enjoying the silence, Jihoon thinks — _no_ , he is sure, that Woojin is his first love.

 

First loves, they are also never meant to work out. That’s kind of the entire point, people say. But here he is, heart _beating, beating, beating_ and trying not to leap out of his chest. He doesn’t want to compromise this, not again, but damn, it is hard.

 

Woojin drags him up after a few more minutes, and Jihoon is thankful. He was getting a little too lost in his thoughts, so the distraction is welcome, even if the person distracting him is also the one inflicting all these thoughts.

 

Jihoon watches in amusement when Woojin paces over to the speaker set with newfound determination and puts on a girl group song. He doesn’t remember the name, but remembers belting out the lyrics on one of his nightly drives with Woojin.

 

The younger starts dancing — not the planned, sharp and thought-through choreography he’s used to, but wilder and funny movements. He slides over to Jihoon, grabs his hands, and twirls him around. The two boys laugh together, have fun together in the way have always had fun.

 

It’s how they end back sprawled on the ground. The sun is starting to set outside, and the room is covered in a pinkish, yellow and orange glow. Woojin stretches himself out, almost like a starfish. The hues of the oncoming dusk lighting up his features. “You’re beautiful,” Jihoon blurts out, and _fuck_. What.

 

Woojin looks up to where Jihoon is sitting cross-legged on the floor. “ _The_ Park Jihoon complimenting me?” he laughs, dodging the bullet of awkward incoming tension, “I feel like I’ve achieved some sort of life goal.”

 

He’s blabbering, blushing, and it’s making Jihoon blush too. “Your face is red,” Woojin points out dryly, and it only makes matters worse.

 

“So is yours!” Jihoon retorts, “Is that _blushing_ , Park Woojin?”

 

“Yeah, well, pretty boys make me nervous,” Woojin laughs light heartedly, and Jihoon wonders if Woojin even knows what he’s saying. He scrunches his nose. It’s nice, though. It’s nice coming from _Woojin,_ especially like this, lazy and genuine, but—

  
“I am more than just a pretty boy, though.”

  
“You are,” Woojin says, and looks straight at Jihoon to show him that he means it. “You are so much more than that.”

 

Jihoon is not sure if he should say it, but it slips out anyway. He’s slipped up more than enough lately, what’s one more time? “And you are more than what you give yourself credit for.”

 

 _You are everything,_ he wants to say.

  
  
The younger sits up and looks at Jihoon, then, and gives him a bright smile. Jihoon fiddles with his hands at his sides, averts his gaze. “It’s true. Remember that.”

 

Woojin hums, eyes not leaving him. His gaze burns. “I will.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

It gets late quite fast, and for some reason Jihoon doesn’t want to leave Woojin’s side. It’s not the middle of the night just yet, but something about today has him oddly sentimental. It might be the rollercoaster of emotions today, the clenching of his heart, his lungs.

 

Woojin’s house isn’t far, yet the walk feels endless. Jihoon feels his fingers itch, and he doesn’t want to give in despite the want having wrapped itself around his heart. He can always blame it on the cold.

 

He doesn’t have to fiddle for long, because Woojin naturally grabs his hand in his without looking up. “Stop fiddling, you’re making me nervous.”

 

Jihoon huffs, but can’t blame Woojin. He only hopes the beating of his heart slows down to a normal rate soon. They walk in silence, and at the intersection where they usually have to part ways unless Woojin’s dropping him off, the younger doesn’t let go. Instead, he tugs at the other’s hand, pulling him back a little.

 

It’s a bit too close for comfort, but Jihoon can’t complain.

 

“Do you want to sleep over?”

 

“What?”

 

Woojin shrugs. “My parents went to visit our aunt up in Daegu. I have the house to myself until tomorrow afternoon and like…” he shrugs. “You don’t have to, Jihoon.”

 

It must have been something in his eyes that makes Woojin say it, and he really wishes he wasn’t so damn _expressive_ sometimes. “No, no, it’s fine. But are you sure?”

 

“I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t genuine, you know? Plus, I haven’t seen you in a few days. I lacked my daily dose of Jihoon Being Annoying.”

 

Jihoon tries to kick his butt, but Woojin ducks away, grinning. Their hands let go when Woojin jumps out of the way, laughing as he dodges another kick from Jihoon.

 

But then, after Jihoon complies and tells him he’ll just text his mom that he’ll be staying with the other boy for one night, Woojin says “Okay, cool” and reaches for his hand again. Their fingers entwine, and Jihoon truly wonders if Woojin understands what it does to him, how difficult it makes things.

 

He doesn’t let go, though.  

 

Instead, he lets Woojin drag him to his house. It’s still the same as it used to be, and Jihoon realises guiltily he hasn’t really been here since he got back, that Woojin’s mostly been coming over to _his_.

 

“‘T is fine,” Woojin assures, rummaging through the kitchen, “it was for your own safety, remember? Not getting recognised and all.”

 

Jihoon shrugs, joining him in the kitchen as Woojin sets a pot on the stove. “We’ve been walking around regularly, though. Three blocks down wouldn’t make a difference.”

 

“Okay,” Woojin says, grinning, “I’ll let you have your misplaced guilt. Just come help me make these noodles, yeah?” 

 

 

* * *

 

 

After they eat and do the dishes side by sides, Woojin throws himself on the couch with a bag of snacks on the coffee table. “Do you wanna watch a movie? It’s not super late yet.”

 

“Sure,” Jihoon shrugs, and tosses the remote to Woojin when the other extends his hands, unable to reach it.

 

“Hmm… which one will we pick? Perhaps…” he trails off, and Jihoon doesn’t notice the look of mischief Woojin is giving him. “Perhaps Spring Breeze? I heard that was a good one.”

 

He cackles when Jihoon jumps off the couch and onto Woojin. “Park Woojin,” he half-whines half-growls, “we are NOT watching anything that has _me_ in it!”

 

“And why not? What if I want to look at your face?”

 

In a millisecond, his mind supplies him with, “ _You can do that when I’m gone”_ , but luckily he stops himself. If Woojin notices how he suddenly stills, he doesn’t say anything about it. Jihoon regains his composure quickly, making his ugliest face to Woojin. “You mean this face?”

 

Woojin laughs, and quickly tells him they’ll just watch something else. “Wanna watch a Park Jihoon drama with you sometime, though.”

 

“Sure,” Jihoon says, rolling his eyes. “One day. Maybe. Or maybe not.”

 

In the end, they settle on a foreign movie. It’s a romcom, apparently, but Jihoon stops paying attention halfway through. Instead, he scrolls through his phone, searches the internet a little bit, and a strange form of anxiety creeps up on him. He ignores what he sees, closes the browser, and instead tries to focus on the movie again.

 

Except he feels like he’s being watched, and after a minute or so his eyes wander over to Woojin. The other boy is looking at him, eyes twinkling in the blue-ish reflection of the television light. “You okay?”

 

“Sure,” Jihoon answers, cheeks heating up a little. “Just a bit tired. If I doze off, you don’t have to pause or anything.”

 

Woojin, instead, turns off the tv. “Nah. Movie’s boring anyway. Let’s go to bed?”

 

And well, Jihoon hadn’t thought that far ahead. It’s not like he _minds_ , he thinks to himself as he lets Woojin pull him up the stairs and into his room, they’ve had slumber parties all the time when they were younger.

 

Except they’re not younger and things are different now.

 

Yet, he lets Woojin push him into his room. The younger tells him to hold on for a minute as he fetches Jihoon an old pair of jogging pants and a sweater before he leaves for a second to get changed in the bathroom.

 

Jihoon quickly disperses his clothes, folding them on Woojin’s desk and putting on his own pyjamas. It’s then that notices something in the corner of his eye, on Woojin’s windowsill.

 

A set of framed pictures. One of Woojin with his old dance team, next to a picture with his family taken at what looks like a zoo. Then, there’s a photo of him and Minhyun and Jinyoung, and another one taken with a bunch of kids Jihoon assumes are his students.

 

It’s interesting, and it’s cute. But it’s not what exactly caught his eye.

 

All the way in the left corner is one framed picture, almost hidden between the other ones. It’s one of Jihoon and Woojin, huddled together, arms wrapped around each other and laughing. Jihoon remembers it well. It was around the time of the cherry blossom festival, the year before Jihoon left to Seoul.

 

It’s a good memory and Jihoon gets lost in it the longer he looks at the picture. He remembers everything: the context, Woojin’s mom getting them together for a photo, Yerim making ugly faces at her older brother and his friend. His _best_ friend. Woojin’s Jihoon.

 

He’s so distracted he doesn’t notice Woojin coming back, leaning against the door frame. He doesn’t notice Woojin slowly walking over, standing next to him. He puts a hand on Jihoon’s shoulder, and the older flinches.

 

“Hah, sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you,” he says, a little absent-minded. Jihoon looks over and notices Woojin’s gaze dropping to the photo. “Oh. Wow.”

 

“You could say that,” Jihoon says. “I didn’t know you had this photo still. I didn’t know you had it at all, actually.”

 

Woojin just shrugs, picking it up from his windowsill. “It’s a precious memory,” he muses, holding up the picture next to Jihoon’s head. “Your hair was uglier, though.”

 

Jihoon snorts. “I’ll give you that,” he responds, and watches Woojin put the frame down with a fond smile.

 

They stand there for a moment, looking outside of the window side by side.

 

“Do you think…” Woojin starts after a moment, still staring into the deep blue sky. There aren’t a lot of stars tonight despite the clear weather. Not that Jihoon would know; he’s too busy staring at the other boy as the moonlight reflects on him through the window. “Do you think we were fated to meet again?”

 

He hums, but offers no response. He thinks about it, about the things that made him who he is today. He doesn’t believe in fateful encounters despite everything. At least, he didn’t.

 

He might have to change his mind.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Woojin rolls over thirty minutes after they’d crawled under the covers together. He knows Jihoon is awake. Much like Jihoon knows Woojin isn’t sleeping, either.

 

The younger inches closer, taking Jihoon’s hand in his own. They lay side by side like this, their fingers entwined and thinking about life, the world, the stars around them. “What’s going to happen? To us? When you go back?”

 

“I don’t know. I don’t know a lot of things, actually. But, what I do know is that I don’t want to lose this. It’s selfish, isn’t it?”

 

Jihoon feels more than he sees Woojin shake his head. “No, I get it. I do. It’s not the same, obviously, but when I think about going away for college soon, it plays in my mind too. What if I leave before you do?” Woojin laughs a bit — it’s genuine, but a little empty, a little too melancholic.

 

It’s probably the darkness around them, covering them. That, and perhaps also the warmth in between them, the comfort they’ve built around each other. It’s probably that what makes him say it, outright and for the first time: “It scares me.”

 

Silence washes over them, just for a moment. Then, Woojin’s voice, “It scares me too. I feel like you came into my life at the right time, or the wrong one, I don’t know. But we hadn’t met for so many years, and yet it feels like no time passed at all.”

 

He sighs, squeezes Jihoon’s hand. It’s a small gesture, but it’s tender; _soft_ in a way they rarely are. “Either way, we’ll need to part ways soon. Probably. We both have things to do, places to go, even though I’d rather spend every day with you like this.”

 

Jihoon feels his heart break a little, and Woojin both mends it and breaks it further the moment he shifts a little closer. He swallows the lump in his throat.

 

“You know,” he starts, tasting every word carefully in his mouth before speaking it. “I love my friends in Seoul. I love Seongwoo and Daniel and Minhyun and everything. I can be myself with them. I don’t need to put up any pretence for them. But it’s still different. It’s different because with you I feel like I can just be Jihoon. Not Park Jihoon, actor and idol, or actor and idol and _friend_. Just…”

 

“Just you and that’s enough for me,” Woojin finishes for him, turning his head a little so he can finally, _finally_ look at Jihoon.

 

“Yeah,” he mumbles. “Am I?”

 

Woojin huffs, feigning a bit of exasperation. “I told you, didn’t I? Earlier today. You are so much more than just a pretty face.” He pauses, lets the words twirl in the air, lets them sink in. Then, he says, “For example, you are also _annoying._ ”

 

He laughs when Jihoon gasps, ending their moment, but neither of them are mad about it. They bicker for a little bit, Jihoon threatening to tickle him, Woojin threatening to kick him off the bed. It feels more natural than their conversation, even though it needs to be had.

 

It’s how they end up like this: Jihoon facing Woojin, the younger’s arm lightly draped around his waist. They’re drifting off, slowly, with nothing but the moon watching over them.

 

Jihoon ponders on a certain thought for a little while, and then decides that if he doesn’t say it now, he never will.

 

“Wooj?” he says softly. The other’s eyes flutter open, studying him.

 

“Yeah?”

 

Maybe it’s the darkness giving him this odd sense of bravery. Maybe it’s the moon. Maybe it’s the finality, the underlying fear, the warmth between them. A lot of maybes, but they don’t matter here.

 

It’s now or never, all or nothing.

 

“If I kissed you, it would count.”

 

Woojin freezes and falls silent at that for a second. Jihoon feels like digging a hole in the ground and disappearing; and yet he wouldn’t take it back. Even if he had misinterpreted Woojin’s actions — he couldn’t go without having it be left in the dark. Literally.

 

The other moves, shifting into a more comfortable position, still facing Jihoon. He closes his eyes, as if he’s going to pretend that just didn't happen. But then…

 

“Good to know,” he muses, eyes still closed and not meeting Jihoon.

 

“Yeah, good that you know,” he bounces back, before letting sighing one last time that night. “Goodnight, Park Woojin.”

 

“Goodnight, Park Jihoon.”

 

Silence falls over them, then. It’s not the thick kind, not the tense kind. It’s comfortable, despite the hint of a confession, the _should-have-beens_ and _will-never-bes_ hanging in the air.


	5. lost and found

 

_‘cause i'm not quite sure right now_

_i don't really understand how i am ever_

_really gonna be in love with you_

_because i never even thought_

_you would want me too_

— jorja smith

 

 

“Hoon!” Jisung says as soon as Jihoon picks up the FaceTime call. He’s clearly in Seongwoo’s apartment, the other boy yelling out a greeting in the background so loud that it makes both of them flinch. “I’ve got news for you.”

 

Ah. _News._ Either that’s good or bad, but Jisung doesn’t elaborate just yet and Jihoon is too afraid to ask.

 

“Yeah?”

 

Jisung nods, and it’s a gesture more to himself more than to Jihoon. It’s been a while since he’s seen him — sure, they’d called and texted, but Jisung had other duties to attend to and Jihoon, well, yeah.

 

In the background, he hears Seongwoo rummaging through the apartment, and Jihoon finds himself idly wondering how things are over there.

 

It’s not like he’s lost touch with his friends. He games with Daniel, calls Seongwoo and Jisung on the regular. He even kakao’d Jaehwan when his new song came out a few weeks ago, and they’d gone back and forth in a small exchange of _how are you_ s and _i miss you_ s.

 

It’s not the same though.

 

But, he’s realised, he is happy here as well.

 

“So, basically, you got this offer for a role. You wouldn’t even need to audition,” Jisung starts, and something churns in Jihoon’s stomach. “The production team reached out to us first, specifically asking for you.”

 

Jihoon nods. “Okay?” He doesn’t ask more, knowing Jisung will no doubt continue.

 

And continue he does. And with every word, the strange feeling of anxiety in Jihoon’s stomach grows.

 

“They wanted it to be your big comeback or something, you know. It's been a hot minute.”

 

Jihoon huffs. “I haven’t been gone for _that_ long. A lot of actors and idols go on hiatus longer than this.”

 

“Park Jihoon,” Jisung responds, a little exasperated, “It has been three months. Without a single update from you except for people saying they’ve seen you around is Busan. The public doesn’t wait, you know?”

 

And boy, does Jihoon know.

 

He’s not a fool. No matter how much he wishes he was a little more oblivious in this situation, he sadly isn't. He kind of wishes he was, though.

 

He’s seen them — the articles, the tweets, the posts on _pann._ Where is Park Jihoon? Is he ever coming back? Should he even _be_ coming back?

 

It’s become his favourite pastime recently, an unhealthy routine — going to bed and scrolling mindlessly through his phone for some time, searching up his name in different variations. It’s a habit, truly. He used to do this all the time in Seoul, too. It’s a form of monitoring, in a way. If, for example, fans or even _antis_ wanted something better, something different, he could find out this way and try to change.

 

But then the posts started being about about how people are missing him, and then about how people are wondering if Korea’s Top Rookie is even returning to the scene. They’d been hopeful, but also doubtful. Sometimes particularly mean, saying he wasn’t all that, has never been, will never be.

 

It’s been a struggle, a constant repressing. He wakes up, goes about his day while trying not to think about it, falls into the same pit of despair every evening, repeat. And repeat. And repeat.

 

He hasn’t talked about it. Not to anyone. Not to Minhyun or Jinyoung, and much less to Jisung or Seongwoo. And certainly not to Woojin, either.

 

“—Hoon? Jihoon?”

 

Jihoon snaps out of his thoughts, finding Jisung and Seongwoo looking at him. “What? Sorry?”

 

“Hyung was saying you looked a little too… pensive? And then you zoned out. Is everything okay?” Seongwoo asks, even though Jihoon is quite sure he already knows the answer.

 

He presses his lips into a thin line, but nods back at them.

 

He should tell them, he thinks. He should let them know, but he doesn’t know _how_ to do that _._

 

But luckily, Jisung knows him too well by now. That’s what happens when your manager becomes some sort of unofficial mother. Damn it, first Minhyun and now Jisung. He really knows how to find ‘em.

 

Either way, the older looks at him, studies his face through the small screen of his phone. His voice is slow, every word purposeful. “Do you… not want to do it?”

 

Jihoon is silent, because what do you say to things like that? So Jisung continues instead. “The company has kind of, hmmm…” he trails off, and Jihoon knows what he’s about to say. _The company has already kind of confirmed._

 

“Ah. Okay, well, so that doesn’t leave me with much of a choice, no?” It comes out more bitter than he intends it to, and he finds himself wondering if this is how he truly feels — if he feels more conflicted than he allows himself to.

 

In the background, he hears Seongwoo mutter something he can’t hear. Jisung looks up and glares, and Jihoon hears his hyung burst into laughter at that. “Seongwoo says you’re having emotional constipation. What’s going on that he knows that I don’t?”

 

Jihoon manages a chuckle at that. Of course, _of course_ Seongwoo would say that. “There’s…” he pauses, thinks of Jinyoung, of Minhyun, of his parents and the fresh breeze of salt water air. He thinks of Woojin’s eyes, his smile. “Nothing. So, tell me about this new drama project.”

 

As silence falls between them, Jihoon sees a new text coming it. The notification pops up on top of his screen, as if it’s mocking him. It’s Woojin, _of course_ it is.

 

His heartbeat echoes through his head. He swipes it away.

 

Jisung, though, has been observant. It’s because he knows there’s something Jihoon isn’t telling him, it must have been.

 

“I would tell you, because I think it’d be totally up your alley. However, I need you to tell me first why you just made ten facial expressions in under a second. This is a high quality camera, you know. Also, are you _blushing?”_

 

Seongwoo takes that as a cue to slide over and prop himself onto the couch, squeezing himself into view right next to Jisung. “What’s going on, Hoon?”

 

He sighs. Well, he can’t keep running from it. He thinks of just hanging up, blaming it on a lack of phone battery or bad connection. But at the same time, he also knows Jisung would kick his ass for it, or worse, call Minhyun until the other either a) forces it out of him b) drags him back to Seoul and makes him spit it out.

 

He better not give him any ideas. Instead, he just opts for honesty.

 

“I… _uh_ … met a boy?”

 

The silence is deafening for a while. The three of them just looking at each other without saying anything.

 

It takes what feels like hours before someone says anything.

 

“Jihoon,” Jisung says, eyes a mix of confusion and sternness. “You can’t just tell me you’re thinking of extending your hiatus, or worse — because that’s what I’m getting here — because of a _boy_.”

 

But Seongwoo eyes the screen intently, completely ignoring Jisung next to him. He makes eye contact with Jihoon — a curious gaze he can’t look away from. “Hold on, hyung. Jihoon, _which_ boy?” he says, voice low.

 

“It’s,” he swallows, “it’s not _just_ a boy. It’s… it’s Park Woojin.”

 

“WAIT,” Seongwoo says, jumping up. He sounds like he found the last piece of the puzzle, _the_ light bulb moment. “The Park Woojin? The _he was my first love my first heartbreak and my gay awakening_ Park Woojin? The one you went on all those not-date dates with?”

 

When Jihoon doesn’t respond, but doesn’t avert his gaze either, Seongwoo sighs. “Huh, wow.”

 

“Am I missing something here?” Jisung asks, eyebrows raised. “You told me you’d been hanging out with old friends lately. You didn’t tell me you were in _love—”_

 

Jihoon chokes on air. “I am not! I’m not. It’s just... I don’t know.”

 

There is so much more to say. So much more — so many things he hasn’t told and hasn’t even been able to _think_ about because it’s just that overwhelming. But here he is, Jisung and Seongwoo — two of his closest friends — gently pulling him into openness. He is so scared, so scared of talking in waterfalls, heart on his sleeve.

 

But maybe he should.

 

“It’s not just about Woojin, though,” Jihoon finally starts. “I just think being here made me realise how much I’ve had to sacrifice for this… and I never minded it but now…”

 

He sighs deeply. “I don’t want to stop acting. I don’t. I’m just stuck in the middle not knowing how to find this middle ground and live with it.”

 

“And Woojin made you realise that?”

 

Jihoon shrugs. Did he? “I guess. I don’t know. He might have played part in it. I just know I don’t want to let him go again.”

 

“Wow, he really was your first love, wasn’t he?”

 

When he nods, Jisung smiles. The harsh lines of exasperation he had on his face earlier have disappeared. “And here we were thinking it’s always been Daniel.”

 

Now it’s Jihoon’s turn to emit a small laugh. “He wasn’t,” he answers, recalling his conversation with the other, a lifetime or so ago, “He really was not. It wasn’t even love at all. But with Woojin...”

 

He meets Seongwoo’s eyes again. “It’s different with him.”

 

“So, are you telling him?”

 

Oh. Well. He hadn’t thought that far ahead. The answer is simple, though. “ _What?_ No! Are you insane? I can’t just… involve him in all of this. I mean, I think he already kind of knows, but you know how things are with a life like this. Let alone for two boys together.”

 

“And does he, you know, feel the same?”

 

Seongwoo is asking the right questions, sure. But his heart is conflicted. “I don’t know. I think… back when we were younger he liked me, or it might have headed into that direction. I don’t know how he feels now.”

 

Jisung leans back at that, the phone nearly falling from his hands. Jihoon chuckles at the screen. “Well, for all you know you were his first love, too.”

 

And so what? What if he had been? Jihoon doesn’t want to assume, or even think about it. He doesn’t want to get his hopes up, doesn’t want to dig up old skeletons only to be let down, doesn’t want to get his heart broken and end in something that was meant to fail from the start.

 

“Either way, just think about it a little longer. Take your time. Maybe come up to Seoul soon, though, so we can talk this out with the company?”

 

“How long until I have to decide?”

 

Jisung takes a deep breath. “Two weeks, maximum. I don't think I can get you more time.”

 

Fate has a funny way of bringing people together. He knows, he knows, he knows.

 

And he knows that their lives had already been written out for them. Woojin was never in the script, was never _meant_ to be.

 

After they end the call, he looks at the text Woojin had sent him earlier. It’s something simple, something mundane, a simple anecdote about his sister and a funny picture. Jihoon’s heart skips a beat.

 

Woojin was never, ever meant to be in the script.

 

However, maybe. Just _maybe_. Just maybe it’s time for Jihoon to write his own.

 

 

* * *

 

 

A week passes, and Jihoon feels like a ticking time bomb, a walking paradox. He feels like he needs to say something, needs to _do_ something.

 

One week. One more week before he goes back to Seoul and has to make a decision.

 

He doesn’t want to let go, doesn’t want to give up doing what he loves the most, what he’s loved the most since he was merely ten years old.

 

But he wants to breathe. He wants to live from day to day, not schedule to schedule. At least, not constantly. The buzz is nice — the feeling of doing _something_ , but he...

 

He just doesn’t want to crash and burn again. He doesn’t want to, even though he knows, now more than ever, people would catch him if he falls.

 

He’s too occupied with thinking how he’s going to tell Woojin, tell him _this is it, what’s next?_

 

He’s too occupied, so he doesn’t see it coming at all when Woojin drops the bomb on him first.

 

“I decided on a college.”

 

This happens on a sunny afternoon, both of them lazing on the floor of Woojin’s bedroom — which has become a regular occurrence since the day he’d slept over. The weather isn’t great, but the sun is still coming in through the windows, illuminating Woojin’s face. Jihoon finds himself looking up more often than not.

 

He’s lazily skimming through one of Woojin’s comic books, thoughts anywhere but with the story of the book, when Woojin clears his throat. Jihoon looks up, and their eyes meet. There’s _something_ in Woojin’s look that pins Jihoon down.

 

The words come out of the younger’s mouth, but they don’t truly register until silence has fully surrounded them.   

 

“Oh.”

 

Woojin shrugs, puts his own comic down into his lap. “Yup. A major in dance. I haven’t picked a minor yet, but yeah.”

 

He wants to ask — ask _how, where, what, what now?_ But none of the words come. Instead, Jihoon ponders on it for a minute, tastes the word in his mouth. And then, he decides he might as well.

 

“I’m going back to Seoul.”

 

“I know.”

 

Jihoon looks at the other boy, who is just looking back with a neutral expression. “Huh?”

 

“It was in the news,” Woojin shrugs, getting up. He walks over to his desks, picking up his phone.

 

He plops down next to Jihoon on the floor, leaning onto him, scrolling through his phone. “Aha,” he says, after a little while, as if it was his own personal _eureka_ moment.

 

He tilts the screen towards Jihoon, showing him the Naver front page. _“Park Jihoon in talks for new drama. Reported to return soon.”_

 

Damn it. Jihoon hadn’t even thought it would be in the news, let alone on the _front page_ of god damn Naver. There is a peculiar feeling of anxiety creeping up on him, and Jihoon kind of wants to cry. “Just so you know, I haven’t talked about _anything_.” He looks over to Woojin, then cups his cheeks as an act of impulse, and looks him in the eye. “They said I could think about it. I said I would.”

 

People have often said Jihoon’s eyes contain galaxies. And while he wouldn’t object to that — he _loves_ his eyes — he thinks Woojin’s hold so much more than that. Right now, they are staring at him in vulnerability, openness. “And?”

 

He breaks the eye contact, for a moment, eyes flicking down to Woojin’s lips. “I don’t know,” he says, and shuts his eyes. “I mean... Say the word and I’ll stay.”

 

“You won’t. And that’s okay, Jihoon. It is.” The other pries Jihoon’s hands from his face, and entwines their fingers. “Even if you did stay, you’d be miserable eventually. Plus, like I said, I’m going to college, too. This isn’t one of the dramas you acted in, this is _your life._ This is what you love. You don’t have to, you know, give it up for anyone or anything. It’s your choice.”

 

“As it is yours, Woojin,” he counters, “I want you to be happy.”

 

He pauses, but he knows the words hanging in the air need to be said, still. So he takes a deep breath, says, “I want to make you happy.”

 

Woojin nods, but he doesn’t look happy or upset. His face is just blank. Just.. nothing.

 

He can’t do this. He _can’t_. He’ll just leave, for a little while. Get some air, clear his head and then see where he goes from here. He’ll call Jinyoung, or Seongwoo, or Jisung or in the worst case scenario, Minhyun, and he’ll ask for help.

 

So, he leans back, lets go. “I should go, I think.”

 

It doesn’t register for a few moments, but Jihoon thinks he hears Woojin get up right behind him, when he’s already heading to the door.  

 

“Jihoon,” the younger boy says. “Wait.”

 

At this, he turns around, looking at Woojin. He tilts his head in question, not daring to speak and shatter the train of thought Woojin seems to be on. His face looks conflicted, in pain, a whirlwind of emotions, a myriad of feelings.

 

“When you said…” He pauses, fiddles with the sleeves of his sweater, takes a breath. “When you said it would count if you kissed me, did you…” he trails off.

 

Jihoon finishes the sentence for him. “Did I mean it?”

 

“Yeah,” the other responds. The look on Woojin’s face seems to be switching between a little nervous and a little determined with each passing second.

 

“I did. With everything I have, I did.”

 

And then, in that moment, something snaps. All the worry in Woojin’s eyes gets replaced by newfound courage, and suddenly the world around them stops, plain and simple.

 

He takes a step forward when Jihoon does as well.

 

“Don’t go. Just… let’s make it count, then,” he whispers, cupping Jihoon’s cheek where they meet in the middle and looking at him for what feels like a lifetime.

 

After a century of waiting, testing, trying, doubting, he leans in. Woojin, as he always had, meets him halfway, bringing their lips together gently, tentatively.

 

It’s not as much like fire as Jihoon had expected it to be at first. Instead, it’s a slow burn, starting in the pit of his stomach and slowly working its way up to his chest. It’s not hungry, not necessarily desperate. Not _yet._ It’s gentle, testing, and a little bit like coming home. Woojin is warm, _so_ warm, and Jihoon finds himself wrapping his arms around him tightly — as if he’d disappear if he lets go.

 

Woojin rubs his thumbs over Jihoon’s cheeks, tilts his head a little to deepen their kiss. When he brings his hands to the back of the older’s head, tugging at the strands of his hairs, Jihoon finds himself sighing in happiness. It’s that moment where he feels Woojin tug at his lower lip, asking for _more, more, more_.

 

And what kind of fool would Jihoon be if he said no, right?  

 

The atmosphere changes, then. To the hungrier side, to a more desperate one. The air around them is lightning, it’s fire. Jihoon finds himself being pushed around a little, until his knees hit the side of Woojin’s bed.

 

They giggle as they collide, falling down together, and Woojin drowns in Jihoon’s eyes from where he’s leaning on his chest. “You’re everything,” Jihoon finds himself saying, and then he flips them over so he’s on top of Woojin, straddling him, admiring him and everything about him.

 

Brown eyes stare up at him, the setting sun reflecting onto Woojin’s face. “You are everything,” Jihoon repeats, and then he’s leaning down to connect their lips again.

 

It’s needier this time, more heated. Almost as if Woojin, too, realises this could be their last. He slips his hands under the hem of Jihoon’s sweater, tugging at it as Jihoon subconsciously grinds his hips down, and heaves a deep and contented sigh.

 

Woojin pulls him down into the deep end, just like that, and Jihoon doesn’t know if he’s sinking or swimming. He wouldn’t mind it, drowning in Park Woojin.

 

He doesn’t know long this continues for, all he knows is his hands are all over the place — discovering, roaming. The stirring interest in the pit of his stomach, the heat when their hips fit perfectly together. Then Woojin tilts his head back and Jihoon moves his kisses away from the other’s lips, along his jaw, to his neck.

 

Before it can go any further than that, Woojin freezes.

 

“Jihoon, I—” there is something fundamentally hesitant in the other’s voice that makes Jihoon still his movements. He _knows_ that kind of hesitation, has felt it before, too. So, he pulls away and sits up so he can look at the other properly.

 

“I… fuck. I know I started this, but I don’t think I can do this,” Woojin whispers. There is _something_ in his voice that goes straight through Jihoon’s heart — all the desire from just seconds ago replaced by something softer, something more emotional, tender. Jihoon doesn’t know what _this_ is referring to. To their kissing? To whatever was going to happen if Woojin hadn’t just put a stop to it?

 

Or to their friendship?

 

The other boy’s hands are covering his face, as if he’s too scared to look at Jihoon. Park Jihoon, a rookie super star to the nation, but a ball of pure, uncensored humanity to whoever else wants to see it — to _Woojin_.

 

Jihoon carefully shifts into a more comfortable position, moving to get off Woojin when the other suddenly reaches out to stop him, placing his hands on Jihoon’s hips. Jihoon quirks an eyebrow and Woojin looks so incredibly conflicted, confused, but doesn’t pull his hands away.

 

Careful not to cause any more friction, Jihoon brings himself down into Woojin’s lap again before removing both of his hands off his hips and entwining their fingers. “Talk to me,” Jihoon says, a quiet murmur.

 

“I like you, Jihoon,” is what he starts with, and there is so much genuine feeling, adoration, empathy in his voice that it takes all of Jihoon’s willpower to not melt on the spot. “I like you. I’ve liked you for so long. But now that I can have you here, like this,” Woojin slowly brings one of their hands to his mouth, presses a kiss on the back Jihoon’s hand. “I don’t think I’m ready. It’s— too scary. Too much. I don’t know what will happen once you go back. I don’t want to go that far when I don’t know if—” he trails off, gulps.

 

And _ah_ , there it is.

 

“Woojin, I get it,” Jihoon whispers back, as if talking on a normal volume would shatter the bubble they have brought themselves in — one of temporary safety, one of comfort. “I get it. And I’m not going to do things you don’t want me to.”

 

“Do you, though?” Woojin murmurs back, and he reaches up to put a hand on Jihoon’s cheek. Jihoon, who is still so close, still straddling Woojin’s lap and mere inches away from his mouth.

 

“Jihoon, you know that, right? That we’re walking completely different paths? I’m still picking up the pieces from the past years of confusion, _hell_ , I’m barely starting college. And you’re out there doing movies and making a name for yourself even more. Nation’s sweetheart, second to none except maybe Kang Daniel, who is your damn _ex boyfriend_ , by the way. We’re not even on the same plane of existence, not on the same order of things or wavelength or whatever. Everyone in this country is in love with you.”

 

It makes sense, the concern. It does, it does. But Jihoon is selfish, _wants_ to be selfish when it comes to Woojin, so:

 

“And yet, all I want is you.”

 

“Jihoon, you don’t get it, I—”

 

“No, Woojin, _you_ don’t. Listen, I love you. Have loved you for so long I can’t even remember how it started or since when or _why_. I just know being with you feels right, feels like the home I lost years ago. And I’m not going to push you because I know this is really fucking hard, it _will_ be hard if I go back. I know it's a burden. So…” He sighs, clasping Woojin’s hands firmly into his own. “If you decide you don't want this, then I will make my peace with that. Promise.”

 

He’s silent for a while, puts the ball in Woojin’s camp. It’s the beginning or the end, or the beginning of the end. Wordlessly, Woojin pulls Jihoon down more. Closer, closest, so he’s lying down on the younger’s chest. Jihoon can hear his heartbeat, in sync with his own.

 

“You know,” Woojin says, after their tension has evolved into a more comfortable kind of silence. “I’ve liked you since the day we first met. I didn’t even know what love was back then, I just knew it was what I felt for you you.”

 

Jihoon chuckles, not looking up, instead keeping his eyes closed and relishing in the warmth of Woojin’s arms, relishing in the sound of the rumble of the other’s chest. “Is it cheesy if I say I felt the same? Because you’re like…” he trails off, almost has to snort at his own words. “You were my, ehhh... quote unquote, gay awakening.”

 

The other boy laughs at that, and Jihoon just hugs him tighter.  “And I think you were my first love, too. Actually, I am sure you were. _Are.”_

 

Woojin doesn’t say anything for a moment. Silence has always been their thing in moments like these. Instead, he starts rubbing circles on Jihoon’s back. It’s been a rollercoaster — nothing in this past half hour, in these past _three months_ has made sense. “And you are mine too.”

 

They stay like that for a long time, after that. Neither of them say anything, both lost in their own thoughts. As chaotic as Jihoon and Woojin could be together, there was always something special, something charged about their silences.

 

Back then, a lifetime ago, one might have thought they spoke without actually speaking.

 

Over the years, those silent conversations turned into silent, private thoughts. And yet, they understood each other.

 

“Can I… think about it?” Woojin asks after a while, after the sun has set and both of them are slowly getting covered in darkness. “About you and I?”

 

“Of course. Of course, and I just want you to know that whatever you choose, whatever you want me to be; it’s okay. If anything, I wish we could be friends at least.”

 

Jihoon can’t see it, but he knows Woojin is smiling. “Sure. Of course. I've told you, right? I wouldn’t want to lose this.”

 

“There’s so many risks to it, you know. Both career wise as friendship wise. I don’t want to date you and lose you. I don’t want to stay friends and also lose you. And I don’t want to pressure you or put you or _us_ in danger.”

 

“I suppose so,” Woojin answers, but he doesn’t say anything else so Jihoon doesn’t push it, either.

 

It’s when they both start drifting off to sleep, that Woojin breaks the silence once more. One last time. “Hey, Jihoon?”

 

“Yeah?” His eyes flutter open. Huh. He hadn’t even noticed.

 

“I know I’m being selfish here.” Woojin coughs, in the way Jihoon knows he’s feeling shy. “I know this can make things way harder and way worse but…”

 

“But?”

 

“Fuck it. Can you kiss me again?”

 

And Jihoon, turmoil and time aside, happily obliges.

 

 

* * *

 

 

They spend the remaining days like this:

 

Kissing, hugging, holding hands. Making most of it, almost as if they’ll never meet again, but never going too far, never getting too attached.

 

It reminds him an awful lot of his final days in their high school here, where he’d clung to Woojin harder than ever. Sometimes he wonders if it’d been different had either of them just confessed before parting ways.

 

It doesn’t matter now, though. Things do happen for a reason. Maybe this is how it has to go.

 

“When do you leave?”

 

Woojin looks at the desk calendar. “In a few days. Semester starts quite soon and I still have some things to arrange, so.”

 

“Will I see you again?” Jihoon asks, even though he knows neither truly have an answer to it.

 

“If we are meant to, we will.”

 

It earns the younger a playful shove and a “Woojin, seriously…”

 

“Of course. Listen, of course. Eventually. I’ll be closer than you think,” he answers, cupping Jihoon’s face and kissing him softly. “Only time will tell when and how or why, but I will definitely see you again. We are best friends after all, first and foremost, remember?”

 

It’s vague, and it shouldn’t be reassuring, but it is. This isn’t goodbye.

 

Seongwoo calls Jihoon for updates and some good old hyung-and-dongsaeng quality time. When he catches him up, the older laughs. “Sounds like some star-crossed lovers shit to me.”

 

Jihoon just shrugs even though the other can’t see it, and looks at his surroundings. He’s packing up again, too. Ready to go to Seoul, to face whatever it is he needs to face. “It’s not. It’s just… picking between two kinds of happiness, and I don’t want to choose.”

 

“Then don’t,” Seongwoo says, a finality in his voice. A form of courage, of a push in the right direction. “Just be happy, that’s enough.”

 

* * *

 

 

His last days in Busan are filled with goodbyes. Woojin leaves first, and Jihoon comes to tell him goodbye. He doesn’t want to say exactly where he’s heading to, scared of jinxing it for himself and for Jihoon. All Jihoon knows is that it’s, quote unquote, up North, and that they might see each other soon enough.

 

Jihoon doesn’t cry, and neither does Woojin. They do, however, hold each other for a long time. Jihoon doesn’t kiss him, too afraid he might never let the other go. Also, they are in public, but that doesn't matter to him right now.

 

Woojin promises him they’ll be in touch, tells him that he has to remember their story isn’t finished just yet.

 

It’s hard to not believe that. Not when Woojin says it with so much force and sincerity it nearly blows Jihoon away.

 

Jinyoung is the next one to go, two days before Jihoon also leaves. His transfer to his new college in Seoul had been completed, and Jihoon helps him carry his belongings to his mother’s car. Jihoon tells him what had happened with Woojin, knowing that he can trust the other. The younger listens intently as they carry the boxes together, and there’s glint in his eyes when Jihoon tells him he doesn’t even know where Woojin’s university is.

 

Minhyun comes to pick him up soon enough, and Jihoon has to promise his parents that he’ll visit. He thanks them, holds them tight, tells them he loves them. The older boy just watches, a fond smile on his lips before going to hug Jihoon’s parents as well.

 

It’s not a long drive to Seoul. Objectively it might be, but Jihoon tells Minhyun about his time back in Busan, about the offer he’d gotten back in the capital. In turn, Minhyun tells him about their friends, also adding he’d _“met one of your friends the other day after I went to visit Jisung hyung. His name’s Seongwoo? The actor guy. He’s friends with Daniel, too. I can’t believe you never introduced us.”_

 

He has to laugh at that, and doesn’t doubt they would be very, very good friends.

 

It’s nerve-wracking, going back like this. It’s scary, because Jihoon honestly has no idea what there is left to come back to. He’s made it clear with his agency that he wants to be able to breathe, that he will work his very hardest as long as he gets some time off. They wouldn’t want him to crash and burn again, no?

 

And then there’s still this: the never-ending fear of being forgotten, that everything he’d worked for would have gone down the drain in one moment of weakness.

 

The fear still remains, but Jihoon also knows he’s learned a lot in his time away — about life, about _love,_ about himself. You win some, you lose some, and he is content this way.


	6. goodbyes and hellos

 

_i’m not afraid_

_we know each other’s hearts well_

_don’t worry, because i care more about you_

_than about anyone else_

— wanna one

  
  
  


The world ends, once again, with two brown eyes, a playful smirk, and a simple _Hello_.

 

And yes, okay, so, maybe that does sound a little dramatic still. But even now the connection between heart and mind sometimes tends to malfunction a little. After all, fate _still_ has a funny way of bringing people together, doesn’t it?

 

There are moments in life that can change it forever.

 

When Park Jihoon crashes and burns out in early adulthood, he doesn’t expect things to be alright. He thinks it’s over, it’s done. When he steps in Minhyun’s car, he know this is the end.

 

(But it isn’t.)

 

When Park Jihoon meets Park Woojin again, he doesn’t expect the older to waltz back into his life like it’s nothing. He doesn’t expect it to be this easy, doesn’t expect to get another chance at first loves.

 

And he struggles, he does. Between what he feels and what he should be feeling, between what he wants and what he should be wanting.

 

And he finds himself again, in a way that he didn’t even know he’d lost himself in.

 

And he wonders — he wonders if he can do it, if he can breathe and suffocate at the same time.

 

He wonders if he can find happiness in both ways.

 

(And he can.)

 

When Jihoon falls in love again, or discovers he never really fell out of love, he doesn’t know what to do, what to say or how to go about it. There are things he overthinks, such as there are things he doesn’t consider when he should be.

 

But Woojin finds him, guides him, holds him until the time comes their paths should no longer cross again.

 

First loves aren’t meant to work out. They aren’t meant to result in happy endings.

 

(But perhaps this one is.)

 

The spring reaches Seoul early this year. Not only in terms of the weather, but also in Jihoon’s entire being — from his lungs, to his ribcage, his heart, his mind.

 

His new drama is doing well. Even more so, really. And he’s happy. He’s happy because he’s busy but he’s learned how to _balance_ , has learned how to breathe, how to separate.

 

It had been an adjustment, because what he’d been scared of had happened: it took him less than a week to get swept up again in the stressful and rapid fire environment he was used to. And Jisung had to sit him down on the second week, dragging Seongwoo and strangely enough, Minhyun by his side, to knock some sense into him.

 

Not literally, though. Although Minhyun had looked  _pissed._

 

He’s always had people to catch him when he falls. Only, he hadn’t known he’d been falling before.

 

And then there’s Woojin. _Woojin,_ who he hasn’t seen in a little while, but keeps a conscious effort to stay in touch with. He’s careful, because one might never know when your phone gets hacked or whatever, but they FaceTime, they Skype. He looks tired, worn-out, but content and happy.

 

So they keep in contact, or try to. And he knows that eventually, everything fades. Out of sight, out of mind, but he refuses that Park Woojin becomes a distant memory once more.

 

Time passes. Winter becomes spring, Jihoon signs for contract extension, and continues doing what he loves the most. People change, Jihoon grows up, falls down and tries to crawl back up, tries to navigate through his new life, learns some lessons along the way.

 

And sometimes he wonders if he’s doing the right thing. If this can last, if he can try to keep Woojin so close with his heart on his sleeve so openly, while living a life like this.

 

He sometimes still wonders if he has to choose between two types of happiness, two kinds he can’t possibly have at the same time or in any way at all.

 

(Maybe Seongwoo was right: maybe he doesn’t have to. He really doesn’t.)

  


* * *

 

  
It’s a rainy evening — a Friday, again — when it happens. Jihoon comes home from a long day of schedules and promoting his new drama, to none other than Bae Jinyoung standing by his apartment door, two other slender figures next to him.

 

Jihoon stops in his tracks, squints, rubs his eyes. “Hello?”

 

“OH!” Jinyoung perks up, smiling, “There you are! We were scared you’d be late again.”

 

Before he can even respond or greet back, he’s being squished tightly into a hug. “ _JIHOON HYUNG!”_ And Jihoon smiles at the warmth that is Lai Guanlin with him, after such a long time. They greet each other happily, and Jihoon learns the younger is back in Seoul for college, and that he’s Jinyoung’s roommate. Just like old times, almost.

 

As they talk, Jihoon feels all the fatigue from a long day ebb away.

 

After, Jinyoung introduces them to the other person in their company. “This is Daehwi, by the way. You might have heard about him through—”

 

“— Woojin,” Jihoon finishes, a smile on his lips. “Yeah. He did mention you before, told me you’re a genius and all that. Also helping him out with dancing and stuff.”

 

Daehwi nods. He looks cute, like this, with crinkling eyes and a warm smile. “It’s nice to finally meet you,” he says sincerely, and Jihoon cannot say he disagrees.

 

He lets them in, offers them something to drink, excuses them for the mess. It’s then, after they’ve settled down, that Jinyoung drops the bomb: “So, I texted Minhyun to come over, too. And he’s bringing Daniel who is bringing Sungwoon who is bringing Jisung who is bringing Seongwoo who is bringing Jaehwan and, well, you know.”

 

Jihoon raises an eyebrow, skeptical. “Why exactly am I having a house party?”

 

Jinyoung just beams. “Figured it was time you pay it forward. Guanlin got the snacks, by the way. And Daniel said he’d be bringing drinks.”

 

He still doesn’t get it, really, but welcomes it anyway. It’s still a mystery how some of them even know each other, but after Sungwoon and Jinyoung get into a heated debate about soccer with Daehwi joining in as if it’s nothing, Jihoon decides he won’t question it. After all, it is nice.

 

And it becomes even nicer after they’ve all gathered and acquainted and talked and caught up. Because there’s a knock on his door, and Jinyoung jumps up before he can, happily skipping over to the door as if this is _his_ house.

 

That’s when he gets catapulted _way_ back in time. Except this is the present, this is _now_ , and Bae Jinyoung says, “Oh hey, Wooj! You’re late!”

 

It’s not a trick of his eyes, and Jihoon forgets the fact there are nine other people in his apartment when he sees Woojin standing in the doorway. He jumps up, perplexed, and walks over in a daze.

 

He looks a bit leaner, a bit paler, too. His hair is an ashy blonde now.

 

His smile, though. His smile is still the same, and Jihoon melts a little when Woojin flashes him that signature snaggletoothed smile.

 

“Hey, sorry for being late. Class ended late and then I missed my bus. Seoul traffic is the worst.”

 

The way he says it is full of mischief, and it takes Jihoon a few seconds for it to click. “Wait. You’re going to go to college… in Seoul?”

 

“Yeah, amazing isn’t it.” Woojin wraps an arms around Jihoon’s shoulder. It’s delicate, subtle. It looks like nothing more than two friends, bros, _pals_ would do. But there’s something in his touch — a kind of warmth he’s only felt between them before.

 

It feels perfect. It feels like home, almost.

 

Maybe because it is?

 

“You never told me?” Jihoon says, feigning offense. He _knows_ why, though, but he still wants Woojin to humour him just a little.

 

Woojin shrugs. “You didn't ask.”

 

At Jihoon raising his eyebrows, he bursts out in laughter. “Okay. You did. I just wanted to make sure I settled in first, and stuff.”

 

“And stuff?”

 

“I didn’t wanna jinx it, you know. And also,” he sighs, and looks a little nervous behind his façade, “I kind of needed to know if this was real, you know? If you hadn’t forgotten me.”

 

He gets it, he does, but his heart hurts a little regardless. Instead of saying that, though, he just engulfs Woojin in a tight hug. “I would never. I promised. And you know I don’t make promises I can’t keep.”

 

They could have stood there for hours on end, but Daniel wolf-whistles and yells something about Jihoon needing to introduce his boyfriend to them, pretty please.

 

Woojin, as always in the beginning, is a bit shy in the group, but he opens up quite fast once Seongwoo asks him about his dancing. Daehwi gives him a playful nudge, urging him to speak up. He lights up once he does, as he’s always done when it comes to dancing. He explains he got admitted to a really good college with a performing arts scholarship here, and that it was because of Daehwi he even got here.

 

When Jaehwan asks him if he’s happy now, Woojin looks up to meet Jihoon’s gaze. “I am. I am now.”

 

The older laughs, loud and boisterous. “I like him, Jihoon. Keep him around, will you?”

 

And that is how they come together, how Jihoon finds his middle ground. Just eleven of them, sharing snacks and drinks and hanging out as friends, no matter who they are or what they do or whether or not they’re on cringeworthy television ads every other day or not.

 

It’s nice. It’s doable, and Jihoon has never been this happily surprised.

 

It’s only after all of them have left, though, that some kind of magic happens. As some sort of unspoken agreement, Woojin trails behind, doesn’t even leave with Daehwi, Guanlin, and Jinyoung even though their campuses and dorms aren’t far apart.

 

“So,” Woojin starts, leaning against the kitchen counter as Jihoon cleans up. He’ll do the dishes tomorrow, whatever.

 

“So,” Jihoon answers, eyes meeting in the dim lighting of Jihoon’s kitchen. “Seoul, huh?”

 

“Of course. There are more opportunities for dancers here. I’m surprised you didn’t guess.”

 

Jihoon shrugs. “I didn’t want to push you, remember?”

 

Together, they finish making the living room look like a living room again. And afterwards, Woojin just silently waits for Jihoon to throw him a spare pair of jogging pants and a sweater.

 

“Would you like to go on a date with me?” Jihoon asks casually, with a heart beating in his throat, once Woojin comes out of the bathroom while wearing Jihoon's hoodie. “A real one. Not one of those not-dates that were secretly, definitely dates.”

 

Woojin chuckles, rolls his eyes. “I would love to.” He walks over to where Jihoon is standing, puts his hand on his hips. “Do I have to wait until then to kiss you, or can I do it now?”

 

“You act like we haven't kissed before," Jihoon snorts, but then he realises what Woojin just asked him. His eyes widen. "Wait, you are sure?” Jihoon asks, but leans in closer anyway.

 

“I was sure since the very beginning,” Woojin says easily, “I just wanted you to figure yourself out. I know it’s a risk, doing all of this, but I want to take it. I want to be with you.”

 

The smile on Jihoon’s face threatens to break his cheeks, because he honestly doesn’t think he can go any wider. He just nods, licks his lips, and meets Woojin in the middle.

 

When Woojin holds his hand that night, when they’ve kissed and explore each other for eternities, lying down side by side, Jihoon feels well and truly happy.

 

When there’s nothing but them and the moonlight through the window, Jihoon thinks of first loves.

 

He’d always thought first loves weren’t meant to work out. It’s what he’s been told, what he’s seen.

 

And he doesn’t know if _this_ is truly love. Maybe not yet, but he’s sure it will be. And he’s sure it will work out just fine.

 

Even if a night like this never comes again, they will be just fine.

**Author's Note:**

> honestly, i've had quite a hard time completing this — school, work, other stuff kind of got the best of me. but i did it! here we are! thank you to everyone who has helped me and told me to keep going. i owe you, truly. 
> 
> and thank you, reader, for reading up until now. i hope you liked it! feedback and (constructive) criticism is always welcome and greatly appreciated! ♡  
> i have a [writing account](https://twitter.com/bunssos) where i hang out a lot but feel free to hmu on my [multifandom twt](https://twitter.com/mijoo) or [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/littleheavens) as well! ;-) ♡


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